It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer
by NewEnglandFan
Summary: COMPLETE. The title says it all. LOTS of whump for poor Sheppard! When did his enemies get so smart? He, his team, and Atlantis are attacked in unexpected ways. John, personally, faces a difficult challenge from a mysterious alien race. Set in the Season 5 era.
1. Chapter 1 -- Meet the Neighbors

**It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer**

**Chapter 1**

**Meet the Neighbors**

Ronon came around slowly. An acrid stench in his nostrils, and the sharp pain of something digging into his back brought him back to reality. "Hey! Is everyone all right?!" he yelled from where he lay amidst the debris. He could barely see. A thick, toxic haze blanketed the decimated room. Grit-filled blood grated across his eyes and blurred much of his sight. Through the ringing in his ears, he thought he heard something. "Sheppard! Teyla! McKay!" No answer. The bombs, at least two, had gone off during the reception and the usual diplomatic niceties that always bored him to tears. Damn Wraith worshippers! He tried to get up, but fell down hard as his leg buckled beneath him. White-hot pain shot through his left thigh – a piece of concrete was imbedded deep into the flesh. Checking his back for wounds, his hand came away soaked in blood. He'd deal with his injuries later, though. Right now, he had to find his friends. They'd been across the room from him – hadn't they? Grimacing, Ronon finally managed to stand. He began limping through the wreckage – and nearly tripped over the body of Magistrate Val. The woman was clearly dead – her skull was crushed on one side where the ceiling had collapsed on her. Where the hell was everybody? Then he heard it – a hard, hacking cough and a moan of pain. He found McKay, bleeding and semi-conscious, partially wedged under the large wooden dining table. The massive piece of furniture had saved him, absorbing the brunt of the concussive force. Teyla, looking very small, was lying next to him, not moving, a large gash on her forehead and her arm jutting out at an unnatural angle. Heedless of his own wounds, Ronon maneuvered her gingerly over his shoulder and stumbled outside through what remained of a wall. Leaving her with the first person he met, he turned to go back for McKay and Sheppard, and anyone who might still be alive. But the blood loss and shock were too much, even for such a big man. He collapsed after only a few steps.

Sheppard was cold – and scared. Any guy realizing that he was chained at the wrists, chest and ankles to a metal table, and that he had been stripped down to just his pants and dog tags would naturally feel that way. The gag and blindfold weren't helping matters, either. Breathe, John, just frickin' breathe. His head hurt. In fact, most of him did. He had come to a few moments ago and had quickly realized he wasn't in the friendly confines of Atlantis' or anybody else's infirmary. But, wherever he was, someone had treated his injuries. He felt some sort of bandage along the back of his head, where his hair was sticky with matted blood. John sighed in both fear and frustration and grunted against the gag, knowing it did little more than let his captors know he was awake and give them a chance to gloat at his helplessness. What the hell had happened? He remembered a loud sound, a hard blow, and then consciousness starting to fade as he was lifted and carried away amidst a cacophony of frantic voices. He had been…off-world, he knew that much. Sheppard was feeling awfully fuzzy at the moment.

(What was the retirement age for intergalactic space explorers? Was he _**anywhere**_ near it? But then, given his current predicament, he might not live long enough to tap into whatever pension plan SGC had, so…)

OOOKKKAAYYY, Sheppard, try and focus, please? John chastised himself. There had been an explosion – yeah, that was it. He'd been outside talking to someone when – oh, Christ, his team had been in the building that blew up, along with maybe a dozen Sil. Were his friends imprisoned with him now? John couldn't hear anything except the sound of his heart roaring in his ears. He remembered the mission now. They had been on MM2-864 – the planet Sil – which was one of several worlds recently hit by terrorist attacks. That was why they had been meeting with the leader of the Sil, Magistrate Jarina Val, and her Council. Atlantis and the governments of worlds which had already been targeted or who might be next agreed that Wraith worshippers were most likely behind the violence. Traces of Wraith technology and explosives had been detected, and in some instances known cultists had been spotted. And now, this second attack – which _had_ to be the work of the cult. Why had the Sil been victimized again? Oh, shit. Because the Atlantis team had been there. Because _he_ had been there. John realized now that it had been a trap. One of the Magistrate's people – who must have been a spy – had conveniently escorted John outside to the gardens to talk about something, only moments before the bombs went off. It had been an elaborate ruse to capture him alive. Whoever was behind it had been careful to make sure he wasn't killed by the explosion. Sheppard had a vague memory of being led towards a thick stand of flowering trees, distracted by the chattering politician, and then hit hard across the back of the head. The chaos after the attack had allowed the Wraith worshippers to kidnap him with ease.

It was unlikely, then, that the rest of his team had been taken. The cultists had only wanted to snare one particular prize. His friends could now be badly injured, or dead. For the time being, Sheppard might be completely on his own.

John's hands were tightly restrained against his sides. He struggled against the shackles but soon stopped when blood began trickling across his skin. No use accidentally slicing open his veins or dislocating his wrists. He had to try and escape, of course, but jailers usually had the advantage when chains were involved, and when their captive was blindfolded. John had no idea who, or how many men might be watching. He didn't _think_ anyone was in the room with him, but he knew that somewhere nearby his captors were taking great pleasure in his mounting anxiety. It was a ploy that John was all too familiar with, and he refused to yield to it. He turned his attention to trying to make sense of what was going on. The sophistication of this plan – and of the attacks on the other planets – surprised Sheppard. Frankly, he had always been puzzled by how _little_ trouble the Wraith worshippers caused. Maybe they had done more damage in the past; after all, John had only lived in Pegasus for a few years, whereas the Wraith had inspired a crazed following over the course of _thousands_ of years. In John's experience, Wraith worshippers were certainly dangerous, but were a threat he encountered infrequently. His team had tangled with the cult before, of course – they had nearly lost Ronon to them on one mission. But Sheppard had never seen them so organized, so deadly, so _visible_ – almost as if they were saying, 'Hey, remember us? Did you forget we still live here? We haven't forgotten about _you_.' Because of the uptick in violence, Atlantis had been busy lately. Several of their allies wanted help investigating attacks and soothing frayed nerves. The meeting with Magistrate Val was just one of many that Sheppard had attended in the past few weeks. Now, with this latest bombing, the Wraith worshippers had upped the ante. If John could get himself out of his current mess, he swore that their attack would not go unanswered.

Sheppard's train of thought was suddenly interrupted – he was no longer alone. Someone – make that several someones – were now with him. Where had they come from? Had they been in the room all along? The air seemed virtually undisturbed by their motion. The sound of footsteps susurrated eerily across the floor. In unnerving silence, his captors surrounded John. He flinched involuntarily when one of them removed his blindfold. The room was dimly lit. Once Sheppard's eyes adjusted to the faint light, the five or six people he saw were…unlike any he had met before. As far as he could tell they were humanoid, of average height, slender and with long dark hair and pale skin. Their clothing – tunics and trousers – appeared simple, darkly colored and unadorned. He couldn't make out if they were men or women. What he _could_ see were violet-colored eyes, bright with glints of silver, staring down at him.

Uh, these people weren't Wraith Worshippers, were they…?

Impatient for some answers, John began mumbling through the gag only to have his feeble attempt to communicate cut off as his throat suddenly constricted and a stabbing pain erupted behind his eyes. At the same time, he 'heard' someone speaking to him – in his mind.

"Please do not attempt speech or any other form of vocalization, Colonel Sheppard," ordered one of the aliens, "or I must continue to inflict physical discomfort upon you. The frequencies at which your utterances vibrate cause us great pain. Therefore, we will communicate telepathically with you, and the gag will remain in place."

"Uh, okay…sounds good to me," thought John, not wanting to piss off an alien who could send instantaneous migraines pounding through his skull. "So, uh, where am I, why am I chained to a table and probably suffering from yet another concussion – and where are my clothes? I really liked those boots and it's a pain in the ass to requisition another pair, so…"

Ouch! John winced, as the stabbing pain behind his eyeballs increased. Whoever they were, his captors had no appreciation for sarcasm – and how much he relied on it to mask his fear.

"Okay, okay, I'll behave!" Sheppard conceded. Almost immediately, the pain faded away.

"_**That**_ is why you are restrained, Colonel, and why your speech and vision are impaired. We require your complete attention." As John nodded obediently, the alien continued. "We are called Azeron. This is our home – a galaxy unknown to your race, or any of the other races who inhabit your 'milky way' and 'pegasus.' It is as impossible for you to escape as it is for those you call 'team-mates' to rescue you."

Ignoring, with great effort, the implication of what his captor had just said – that he was apparently very alone, at their mercy, and therefore very screwed, John asked, "What do you want?" He was feeling actually more curious and intrigued about, than frightened by, these aliens. A _third_ galaxy? Wait – hadn't he seen a reference to something about that in SGC reports, that the Ancients may have gone further than anyone realized?

The alien who had removed the blindfold answered him. He leaned down and peered deeply into John's eyes. "No, Colonel, we are not connected to those you know as Ancients or Wraith. We are unlike anything that you, or any other humanoid life form, have ever encountered. We seldom interact with those outside of our race. Count yourself – John Sheppard of Atlantis and Earth – among the few Outsiders who have merited our interest."

It took John a moment to find his voice, er, his thoughts and manage to reply. Fear was starting to infuse his initial curiosity. "I'm sorry, I don't understand…you kidnapped me, er, I mean, you had the Wraith worshippers grab me and deliver me to you…so what do you….?"

This time a different captor 'spoke' to him. An older-looking alien emerged from the gloom and stood at John's left. He rested his hand on John's shoulder and gazed at him seriously. "We did not 'grab' you, Colonel, at least not initially. Your foe on the planet Sil did that, using the explosion as a diversion to facilitate your abduction, with the intention of harming and probably killing you. We, for our part, have, in effect, 'borrowed' you from your enemies. When we are done here, you will be returned to your imprisonment and your fate."

"Uh, what?! You rescued me from the Wraith worshippers – why, I have no idea, but apparently you need me – so why send me back to _**them**_?"

"I apologize, Colonel," John's captor quickly replied. "I have not explained this to you adequately. We have not rescued you, but merely pulled you from your timeline, from the point at which you are lying semi-conscious, injured, bound, and imprisoned in a cell on a most unpleasant planet. Later, we will return you to that exact moment in time. You will, by the way, remember us and most of what will happen here. Your enemies, however, will not be aware that you were ever gone from their custody because, for them, the passage of time will never have been disrupted."

"What?! Are you serious?" John 'yelled.' "You're going to turn me over to some crazies who are probably going to torture me to death? If you really can manipulate time, can't you send me back a little sooner – say, before the bombs go off and people get hurt? _**Before**_ I get kidnapped?"

"I said your enemies took you with the _intention_ of harming you," countered the alien. "Upon analysis, this seems to be the most logical reason why you would be kidnapped. Considering the nature of your enemy, your death is the outcome with the highest probability of occurring. I think you would agree with our reasoning?" (John did, unfortunately.) "However," his captor added, "your death is just one possibility. What happens once we send you back is not yet a certainty. It is not, as you say, 'written in stone.' The explosion, however, _is_ a certainty and has already occurred. We will not return you in time to stop it."

"_Will_ not, or _cannot_?" John probed.

The other man ignored him and instead reiterated his own position. "You must determine your fate as a prisoner of the cultists without our help. The same rule applies to your people's galaxy-wide conflict against the Wraith and their followers. We are highly vested in its resolution, but our race cannot interfere."

"What do you mean by that?!" John had never felt so exasperated at anyone– except maybe McKay. "Do you want us to win, or them? What in god's name are you getting at, can you pl…."

John never finished his question. His captor placed his hands firmly on Sheppard's forehead. His body was instantly paralyzed, while pain exploded inside his skull as if 100 wraith queens were clawing at his deepest secrets. The agony faded in moments, but was then replaced by the oddest sensation. John felt as if everything he was and knew, every facet of his mind that defined him, was being picked up and considered in the same way a beach-comber's fingers might take the measure of pebbles and shells. Against such an onslaught, Sheppard didn't know how, or if, he could resist.

_**TBC….I hope this sounds intriguing! I have a few ideas that I've wanted to try and weave together into an interesting story. Stay tuned… **_


	2. Chapter 2 -- Where's John?

**It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer**

**Chapter 2**

**Where's John?**

The Azeron had kept their promise. A little while ago, Sheppard had woken up on the floor of a dismal cell, a captive of the Wraith worshippers. He only had on his pants and tags (still no boots; damn, he had broken them in just right, too), and his head wound was bandaged but still bleeding. Well, that _was_ the state he was in when the Azeron had 'borrowed' him, wasn't it? They were supposed to return him exactly as they'd found him, and that's _exactly_ what they did. With one exception, though. Now, biting rope instead of the relative comfort of Azeron chains bound him hand and foot.

John tried to pull himself upright, but a wave of nausea quickly convinced him not to. His captors hadn't come for him yet. It was better, for now, to rest and take stock of where he was, than struggle against the rope. His cell was about 8 x 8, with three stone walls and a very sturdy iron-bar door. No obligatory filthy mattress or buckets, though. Hmm…did that mean Sheppard wasn't going to spend much time locked up in here? From his awkward position on the ground, Sheppard could just about see that he was in a corridor made up of several other cells. So, was he in a prison? A military barrack? He wondered why he had been kidnapped. There was no shortage of reasons, of course. But this time around, his intuition was really gnawing away at him. The increase in attacks, the complexity of his abduction – John had a feeling it was all a build-up to something different, big, and undoubtedly bad.

The clang of a key in a lock and the stomp of boots echoed through the corridor. Here we go, thought Sheppard. The door to his cell banged open. Two men yanked him up and began dragging him away. Bootless, John's bare feet scraped painfully across the rough stone floor. He suddenly vomited – the nausea had finally won out – eliciting cruel laughter from his guards. They took him to a large, cold, and windowless room protected by a thick wooden door. Once inside, Sheppard was shoved to his knees. The rope tying his wrists and ankles was then cut off, but before he could try anything he was thrown onto a high-backed metal chair and quickly restrained again, and also gagged. The chair had arms; John noticed with dread that both of his wrists were being secured facing upwards – perfectly positioned for a syringe or an IV – or both. His ankles were bound to the chair legs, and a leather strap held his chest so tight he could hardly breathe. As the two guards finished with him, three other men approached. Two were dressed like Wraith worshippers and the third looked like a doctor. Being tied up, half-naked, and surrounded by bad guys in the glare of what resembled ceiling lights from the 1940s reminded Sheppard of violent WWII or gangster movies. "Bring me the Wraith device, the drugs, the electrodes," the 'doctor' suddenly ordered, looking ominously at John, "and the symbiote."

_Much_ worse than the movies. Crap.

_**Meanwhile, back on Sil…**_

Dr. Keller took a minute to stretch her aching back as she surveyed the large, tented triage area outside of the Sil's destroyed Government Center. Five people had been killed – Magistrate Val, three of her Councilpersons, and an Atlantis soldier who had been part of a security detail. It could have been much worse; certainly, it was bad enough. In total, there were about 17 Sil casualties. Teyla and four wounded Atlantis personnel had been taken through the Gate back to the City's infirmary. But Ronon and McKay refused to leave, even though both were seriously injured. Sheppard had not been found in the ruined building. Maybe he had been hurt in the explosion and was wandering somewhere, bleeding and in shock. A few people remembered seeing him outside; Ronon and Rodney, along with a few Marines, were following up on those leads.

McKay really should have been evacuated back to Atlantis with Teyla and the others. He was about to keel over from pain and exhaustion. Ronon's determination to find Sheppard, however, kept him going, and now it looked like the Satedan's efforts were about to pay off. Just before the explosion, a young woman had seen Sheppard outside, talking with a tall, thin man with red hair. When asked why she was so certain it was John, she blushed and said she thought he was handsome but had felt too shy to go talk to him. (McKay's eyes rolled at her comments.) After the bombs went off, she was still in the gardens and happened to see John, who appeared to be unconscious, being carried away by three men she didn't recognize. She assumed he had been injured and that they were helping him. Ronon and McKay's inquiries had failed to locate the red-haired man, but they did learn that he was a high-ranking member of the Magistrate's entourage – and was not at all well-liked.

Ronon's naturally suspicious nature took over at that point. Stargate travel had been prohibited shortly after the attack, in case any of the terrorists tried to flee. But most likely, security forces had not gotten to the Gate fast enough, and any suspects were long gone – including the ones who had taken Sheppard. He had no conclusive proof, but Ronon was virtually certain that John had been kidnapped and that somehow the red-haired man had been involved. His friend's disappearance at the same time as a Wraith Worshipper bombing was _**not**_ a coincidence.

McKay had come up with a theory which was maybe their best hope, right now, at finding John. The red-haired man probably _was_ a co-conspirator. But, as a prominent figure in the Sil government, he might call too much attention to himself if he disappeared after the attack. They had to find the traitor, and fast. Sheppard could already be dead, but Ronon doubted it. They could have killed John in the explosion, but instead they took him _alive_. Why?

_**Sheppard's Latest Predicament…**_

As Sheppard had feared, the doctor began setting up two IV bags and also brought out a syringe filled with an amber-colored liquid. The doctor knew John was bursting with questions behind his gag and obliged him by answering a few.

"One of these intravenous medicines, Colonel, will keep you mildly sedated. The other will keep you hydrated and will also provide a port should I need to administer further medications. The syringe contains a potent cocktail of immuno-suppressant drugs." Noticing that John looked confused, he clarified what he'd just said, "Anti-rejection drugs, Sheppard, to ensure the procedure serves it purpose and doesn't kill you instead."

Sheppard knew that anti-rejection drugs were given to patients who received organ transplants. Oh, god. What were they going to put inside of him?

The doctor injected him in the neck with the syringe, and at the same time started the drip on the IV bag filled with the sedative. John quickly began to feel drowsy but he didn't lose consciousness. The doctor then picked up a glass jar filled with a murky green liquid and a small, wriggling…thing. He reached in with a pair of forceps and removed what looked, in size and texture, like a very large raw clam. It was a mottled-gray color and had a soft rounded section about the size of a Brussels sprout attached to some sort of stalk that was about 4 inches long and ¼ inch thick. Before John could start to comprehend how disgusting-looking it was, the two guards suddenly tore off his gag and began to pry open his mouth.

_No, no, NO!_ Steamed clams with drawn butter, he'd eat those anytime, but not this look-alike monstrosity.

Sheppard fought as hard as he could, but the sedative had made him too dopey. They got his mouth open and dropped the thing down his throat. They held his jaw tightly closed until he was forced to swallow, and also to keep him from throwing up. John felt the creature slide sickeningly down his esophagus and settle in a cold lump in his stomach. When the guards took their hands off of him and he was allowed to talk, he asked one simple question. "What will it do to me?"

The doctor was more than happy to answer him. "We learned what it can do quite by accident. Last year, a group of our people visiting a new world got temporarily stranded by a storm. The organism infested their camp during the night and managed to get into the mouths of three men. When morning came…well, what this symbiote does, Sheppard, is amazing…and it has proven extremely valuable to our cause. We've been studying its biology for months but we're still not completely sure how it works – autopsies on subjects who didn't survive ingestion of the creature have been very helpful, however."

"If this procedure is successful, Sheppard, then in about 6 hours the symbiote will have taken complete control over your physical and mental states. Put simply, it will have access to your every thought, memory,…..and secret. At that point, my colleagues," the doctor gestured at the two Wraith cultists, "and I will start to speak with the symbiote. Your identity, as John Sheppard, will be suppressed as long as the organism is inside of you. You will _not_ be able to resist."

This was very, very bad, thought John gloomily. First the Azerons, now this creature. At this rate, he wouldn't have anything left in his mind worth going after.

"You're probably wondering why some subjects haven't survived," continued the doctor. John definitely was. "The organism secretes some very complex and powerful toxins to maintain its symbiotic relationship. For some individuals, these substances have proven incompatible with human life. You've been given the anti-rejection drugs to keep the creature – and you, its host – alive long enough for us to learn what we want. Which is, in your case, everything we and the Wraith will need to access your City, your technology, and your homeworld – Earth. You will betray your people, Colonel, and will be responsible for the destruction of countless worlds."

With that thoroughly depressing statement, the doctor turned again to Sheppard's IV containing the sedative. He increased the drip pace. "You will now be kept heavily sedated until the symbiote reaches full integration. Then you'll be awakened and we can get started."

The sedative was working incredibly fast. "Wait a minute, wait!" John desperately cried out. He had to learn as much as he could before he passed out. He knew what the Goa'uld symbiote was capable of; was this creature similar? With his words starting to slur he quickly asked, "If I survive the next few hours, are you going to keep this thing in me indefinitely? Can you take the damn thing out – preferably without killing me?"

"We will still have a use for you, Colonel Sheppard," the doctor replied, "after the interrogation is complete. Since you most likely will always be at risk of dying from the toxins, we eventually _will_ remove the organism."

That was the answer John needed to hear. If they gave him back control over his own mind, then he still had a chance to fight and keep them from ever using the knowledge they stole.

Clinging to that bit of hope, John drifted into deep unconsciousness. The doctor then motioned to the two Wraith worshippers to release Sheppard from the chair. "Secure him to the examination table _exactly_ as you've been instructed," he ordered, "and set up the electrodes and the Wraith device on the instrument cart. Have they been calibrated for use on humans?" They nodded 'yes.' "Alright, let's get to work. I'll tolerate no mistakes and no delays. We have an awful lot to do before we have to wake him up."

_**TBC….Aren't cliff-hangers fun? Please take just a minute to review. Thank you!**_


	3. Chapter 3 -- Curiouser and curiouser!

**It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer**

**Chapter 3**

"**Curiouser and curiouser!" ***

Sheppard, in a medically induced coma and now just wearing his briefs, lay on the examination table. The doctor had subcutaneously implanted several electrodes, each only slightly bigger than the head of a pin, at John's temples, along his spinal cord, on his back above the kidneys, and across his chest. The tiny, biomechanical objects would monitor Sheppard's neurologic, respiratory, cardiac, and urologic function. Any abnormalities in those systems might indicate a dangerous increase in toxin levels or, even worse, that John was rejecting the symbiote outright. The network of electrodes could also serve as a grid through which a weak electrical charge could be sent. The mild shock had stabilized a handful of subjects in the past and had given the doctor enough time to remove the organism before it killed the patient. The next step would be to collect samples from the prisoner – blood, urine, bone marrow, spinal fluid, saliva, skin and hair, as well as tissue biopsies from certain organs. The doctor also needed to isolate several proteins and enzymes in John's blood that the Wraith knew were unique to Ancients – and to gifted humans like Sheppard.

Three hours later, the doctor was finished taking specimens. After carefully checking Sheppard's vitals, he removed the two intravenous drips and, as he cut off John's underwear, his last shred of dignity. He then summoned his men. "Lay him down flat on his back inside the device," he directed, "and do it _carefully_." The 'device' was a large cylindrical chamber made of a clear, glass-like material. It was about 8 feet long and 4 feet in diameter. Its interior was lit with an eerie blue glow. Sheppard was sealed inside. The doctor engaged a switch and…John's body began to levitate. The doctor touched more controls and brought the container from a horizontal to a vertical orientation. Sheppard remained in position while the machine was being moved, held centered and steady within the chamber by a force field. "The scan will take less than 30 minutes to complete," the doctor explained to the others. "Afterwards, we will have a 3-dimensional image of the Colonel's physical structure, right down to his blood vessels, which will be translated into an encrypted code. The device will also filter out extraneous data and create just a 3-dimensional rendering of his electro-magnetic signature. Every human emits a unique electrical field. If we can't mimic Sheppard's field perfectly, then our plan will not work."

oooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo oooo

A mirror crashed to the floor from the force of Ronon throwing the red-haired man against a wall. The big guy seemed to be feeling no pain from the injuries he'd sustained earlier in the day. The few patrons still in the bar quickly fled. "Damn it, Ronon, he can't help us if you crack his head open!" admonished McKay as he jumped to avoid some flying glass. The man who had aided and abetted Sheppard's kidnappers was a weasel named Aric Greth. They had finally tracked him down in a tavern on the outskirts of town. He hadn't tried to leave the planet, as McKay correctly deduced, but he was definitely trying to keep out of sight.

"Stay out of this, McKay! I know what I'm doing," growled Ronon. "Now," he continued, hoisting the politician to his feet by his shirt, and lowering his voice to a deceptively friendly tone, "would you like me to keep using you to break furniture?"

The simpering man shook his head hard, 'no.'

"Good answer! Now sit your ass down and tell us where John Sheppard is."

"That's just it," the man replied in a quavering voice. "_**I don't know**_ where they took him, except that it was off-world."

"_**WHERE**_ off-world?" snapped McKay. "There's only about a zillion planets to choose from! You're a part of their organization, you must know the locations of their camps, super-secret hideouts, places they might…"

"But don't you see…I don't know any of that! I've never helped Wraith worshippers before, I swear it. It was only just this one time. They promised me a lot of money. All I had to do was lure your friend over to the trees, where it would be easy for them to take him. They said they only wanted to rough him up a bit. If I knew what they were really going to do, I would never have been tempted to help them. I wasn't a strong supporter of Magistrate Val, but you can't possibly think that I wanted her dead!" Greth pleaded.

Ronon didn't know what to think. He'd been going at him for a while now. The man might be telling the truth. He looked and sounded genuinely ashamed over what he had done.

"Please, you have to believe me," implored Greth. He ran his hand shakily through his hair. His fingers suddenly grabbed at his left ear. "Oh, my. You know, I could help you better if I had a glass of water? And my hearing aid…oh, I'm so hard of hearing. Um…there it is! On the floor over there, under that broken chair."

"Alright, alright," answered Ronon. He retrieved the hearing aid, tossed it to Greth, and went to find him some water. 'Ok,' Ronon thought to himself, 'We'll just make the creep a little more comfortable and _then_ maybe…wait a minute.' Hard of hearing? Ronon had been yelling at him for nearly ½ hour; even people outside on the street would have heard that. The tavern was quiet and empty now, except for the three of them. But when he and McKay had first arrived, the tavern had been filled with noisy customers. When they spotted the red-haired man they had approached him, and spoken to him – in a normal tone of voice – _from the left_. Greth had turned his head to acknowledge them right away. He hadn't had any problem with his hearing whatsoever.

Ronon spun on his heel towards Greth. The man was looking at him, a cold grin on his face and his fingers pressed tight against his left ear…

"McKay, get down!" Ronon yelled as he dived for cover.

Too late. Bits of Greth spattered across the room as the day's second bombing left McKay and Ronon stunned and bleeding on the floor.

_**TBC…More (plausible, I hope) science in future chapters. And the Azeron will return eventually, too.**_

***from 'Alice in Wonderland' by Lewis Carroll**


	4. Ch 4 - With His Back Up Against the Wall

**It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer**

**Chapter 4 **

**With His Back Up Against the Wall…**

Even the Azeron, with all of their psychic abilities, might not have been able to find the entity known as John Sheppard. His consciousness still existed in the body now possessed by the symbiote, a spark of light buried deep in the human's mind. The light flared and faded, flared and faded, but never completely blinked out. John was still in there, tethered to the real world, but he was very far away. The symbiote's control over him was virtually absolute.

At least, that's what the _creature_ believed.

ooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooo oo

Richard Woolsey stood on the balcony in the Atlantis evening air, grasped the railings tightly, and took a deep, calming breath. He had just returned from the infirmary where he had been checking on McKay, Ronon, and Teyla. They had been seriously hurt, but their injuries were not life-threatening, thank god. Teyla had been the unluckiest – her arm was broken in two places, her shoulder had been dislocated, and the large gash on her head had caused a minor concussion. She was extremely worried about John. Unfortunately, she had noticed nothing unusual in the time leading up to the attack. Ronon and McKay had somehow survived their experience with Aric Greth. The force of the explosion which obliterated the traitor had thrown them against some furniture, aggravating their existing injuries but not causing many new ones. Ronon was kicking himself over what had happened and wanted to return to the planet immediately to resume the hunt for Sheppard. Keller and Woolsey had adamantly refused to let him leave – Ronon was ignoring the fact that his leg was now infected and he could actually hardly walk on it. Richard was very concerned about what was going on. Sheppard was missing, and the rest of his team had nearly been killed. Their best lead for finding him was dead. Woolsey was appealing to their allies for any intelligence they might have on Wraith worshipper strongholds, and a security team on Sil, led by Major Lorne, was re-interviewing the witnesses. Another team was searching Greth's home and government office. Woolsey had the best resources in the galaxy at his disposal, but so far they had generated meager results. The trail to find Sheppard, and the terrorists, was growing colder by the hour.

ooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo ooooooooo

The symbiote stretched its limbs and shook its head, testing out its new shape and adapting to the flood of thoughts and emotions that was surging through it. This organic construct known as 'human' was biologically and mentally much more complex than those creatures typically inhabited by the symbiote's race. It was challenging…and intoxicating…to occupy this form. The symbiote was eager to delve deeper into the mind and body of this 'Sheppard.' A sound in the room, however, pulled its attention from exploring its new internal environment to confronting the outside world. Other humans were with it now and wished to communicate.

"What do we call you?" asked the doctor. 'Sheppard' was fully aware of his surroundings and was sitting up on the examination table. The doctor hadn't had any difficulty waking John up and his vitals were stable. His body was tolerating the symbiote within acceptable parameters – so far.

"My kind does not have the concept of a name in a way that you would understand. I can use the one that previously identified this form, or I can select another that this creature's memory says is a common name of Earth human males." replied the symbiote.

The doctor thought it might feel odd to call it 'John.' It was decidedly _not_ Sheppard. "Please choose another name," the doctor instructed.

The symbiote paused a moment and then replied, "My name will be Christopher."

"Alright, 'Christopher.' Let's get you some clothes and get to work. You do understand, from Sheppard's memories, why you are here?"

'Christopher' nodded. "I do, doctor. This mind is teeming with knowledge. Your people will have no difficulty meeting your objectives in your war against the Lanteans, once I reveal Sheppard's secrets to you."

"You're not having any…ethical conflicts…about what you are helping us to do?" asked the doctor. He had never had problems before getting his test subjects to do whatever he asked. He had theorized that, like some baby birds and animals, the symbiotes were loyal because they had imprinted themselves on to him. This situation might be different, however. What he required _**this**_ symbiote to do could lead to destruction and death on a galactic scale.

The answer he got put his fears completely to rest. "I will assist you in any way you wish," said the symbiote. "Please do not be concerned. My role here is to be a conduit to this man's mind and body. I do not make, or consider, judgments."

The doctor smiled then, and reached for his notebook. His theory had been correct.

The symbiote smiled as well. If the human wished 'Christopher' to comply, then 'Christopher' would – until it no longer served the symbiote's purposes. The wealth of knowledge in Sheppard's mind was tremendous. The symbiote would not allow it to be exploited solely by these 'Wraith worshippers' and their 'Masters.'

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo ooooooooooooooo

Sheppard was floating. He felt no connection to a physical body. Wherever he was, he knew he shouldn't be there, he knew that an imposter had invaded his mind. He pushed his consciousness as far to the surface as he could, desperate to reassert his will. It was during these moments of strength that everything around him grew bright and he became aware with devastating clarity of how badly he was being betrayed. Gate addresses. Alpha and beta sites. The space coordinates of Atlantis – and of Earth. But just as quickly, the symbiote would seize the advantage again, and crush John down into a dark, dark place.

But, it didn't have to be this way. His enemy's victory was not assured. Memories of violet and silver-colored eyes, of the somber faces of the Azeron, flitted through that frightening darkness, buoying John and keeping him from completely slipping away. The Azeron had said they would leave John to whatever his fate might be. They would not interfere. But they _**had **_interfered, whether accidentally or not, just by refusing to help. By pointing out how alone he was, they had inspired John to make god-damn sure he would never stay that way. As they had said, his death wasn't yet a certainty, just a cold, logical possibility. No matter what was thrown at him, Sheppard now realized that, in the end, he could be the sole determiner of his fate. But first, he needed to be the sole owner of his mind.

How could Sheppard get rid of the symbiote? He could hope that, as the doctor warned, his body wouldn't be able to tolerate the toxins and he would start to die. Then, the doctor would _have_ to remove the symbiote, right?

Or…Oh, god. An incredible idea was forming in John's consciousness. At the same time, he struggled to find a way to shield it from the symbiote's attention. Why desperately pray for something beyond his control, when he already had the means to destroy the symbiote himself – his own immune system. That was why the doctor had been pumping him full of anti-rejection drugs. Without them, wouldn't John's white blood cells attack the symbiote, treat it like a hostile invader – which it most certainly was – assault it like it was bacteria or a virus? Sheppard understood enough about basic human biology to know he was right. That was sometimes the reason organ transplants failed – the body couldn't tolerate the foreign tissue.

Whether the symbiote poisoned John, or John's own body tried to kill it, the end result would be the same. The doctor would be forced to take the damn thing out. But with so many drugs flooding his system, and since he was just a consciousness without a body, how could Sheppard jump-start the cells that could save his life? He couldn't just ask the symbiote to go to the medicine cabinet and help him out.

The Azeron knew how. In their meanderings through Sheppard's mind and body, they had reached into many corners. They had seen that there was more to his inheritance from the Ancients than the ATA gene – much more. They had found hidden traits inside his DNA, dormant genes which had not yet been triggered. The Azeron themselves couldn't act upon what they knew, but they made sure to leave a 'door' of sorts to this discovery open in John's mind, just waiting for him to stop by and take a look.

oooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooo oooooooooooooo

The doctor and his colleagues had been interviewing the symbiote for hours. 'Christopher' had been completely cooperative. What they were learning from him was incredible. But all of a sudden, he stopped talking. "Are you all right, Christopher?" the doctor asked worriedly. He was not. The symbiote had gone pale, was laboring to breathe, and was sweating profusely. It clutched at its chest and abdomen and fell to the floor, unconscious.

Alarms on the equipment which monitored Sheppard's health began to shriek.

The symbiote was starting to fail and would have to be extracted immediately.

John had found the door that would save him and had walked right on through.

_**TBC…..More surprises, and chapters, to follow. This will end up being the most complicated story I've written so far in fan fiction. Please review, it just takes a second...Thanks!**_


	5. Ch 5-Score One for the Good GuysMaybe?

**It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer**

**Chapter 5**

**Score One for the Good Guys…Maybe?**

Sheppard was failing quickly. The doctor was determined to keep him alive – he had to. He had already collected an incredible amount of information from 'Christopher,' but the Lantean still had value, very unique value. Sheppard had no idea what they'd done to him – and why – during the six hours he had been comatose. The doctor decided to order the immediate transfer of all his biological samples and data to the larger lab on Xethos. They weren't safe being kept anywhere near John. He couldn't let him interfere with his future plans.

If a disembodied consciousness was capable of smiling, then John was grinning from ear to ear. As his body became increasingly ill, Sheppard could sense the mounting fury of the symbiote. It was determined not to lose control over him. It had had a taste of knowledge, a glimpse of life incredibly beyond the existence of the more primitive creatures its kind had relied upon before. John dug deeper into the new abilities that he had found in his mind, courtesy of the trail of bread crumbs the Azeron had left for him. The symbiote was now starting to gather its strength and fight back – mentally and physically. John _had_ to expel it, but not commit suicide in the process.

Sheppard's body was quickly stripped of its clothing and prepped for immediate surgery. His temperature was climbing fast as his immune system roared into overdrive. The symbiote was bombarding the human with toxins as it tried to reclaim its dominance, but it was only making John's systems fail even more. When 'Christopher' briefly regained consciousness on the operating table, 'he' grabbed the doctor's arm and cried out, "Do not remove me from this body! I refuse to give it up!" How could it have been so stupid? The human had found a way to defeat it. The symbiote, in its arrogant posturing, had been blind to the possibility that he could ever win. It had not detected that John, even with his consciousness imprisoned, had found a way to get free.

As the doctor started to administer anesthesia to John's body, the symbiote unknowingly made one last, and fatal, comment. "Do not do this! Do not cheat me of my chance to use his knowledge and power. Your kind cannot be in sole possession of it!" The doctor was startled. The symbiote apparently was not a docile and loyal resource after all. He eagerly reached for his instruments and prepared to incise Sheppard's abdomen…..

oooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooo oo

Several hours later, John – and only John – started to wake up inside Sheppard's body. The symbiote was gone, extricated with difficulty, the tendrils with which it had infiltrated the human writhing angrily as it tried to remain attached. The doctor had hated removing it, despite learning that the organism might very well have betrayed him later on. His fellow cultists were urging him to implant another symbiote once Sheppard was strong enough, but the doctor refused; it was too risky. The others also suggested that he summon their masters and let them 'do things their way.' But the doctor refused again. He wanted _**all**_ of the credit for capturing Sheppard and peeling away his every secret. The doctor would not turn John over to Wraith, or share what he had learned, until he was good and ready.

John was tightly restrained to his bed. No surprise there! He was feverish and weak, and felt like crap, but he would recover. At least he was alive and in control of his own mind and body. The next steps would be to destroy the information the creature stole before it could be passed onto the Wraith – assuming it hadn't been already – and find a way to escape. He knew the doctor would go at him again, but this time with old-fashioned torture.

Noticing his prisoner was stirring, the doctor approached Sheppard's bed. Despite how sick he looked, he knew the younger man was quietly savoring his victory. "Guess things didn't go as planned, huh?" John quipped, unable to resist the chance to gloat.

"Maybe, Colonel," the doctor retorted, "but I'm not done with you yet. Once you're feeling better, we will start again."

"You sound pretty confident, Doc. You do know that my people have probably got half the galaxy out looking for me now? Oh, maybe I'm not _that_ important, but trying to get who's been behind all of these attacks…..now _that's_ important. If the people of Sil or any of the other worlds you've terrorized ever get their hands on you guys, well, maybe you'd like to change sides now, before it's too late?"

"Given what we took from you – and so easily, Sheppard – a few minor bombings will be nothing compared to the destruction our masters will wreak upon this galaxy."

John knew the terrible degree to which he had been compromised. The doctor must have transmitted everything to the Wraith by now. Were they already planning an attack on Atlantis…or Earth?

Sheppard decided to keep the doctor talking. His ego seemed inflated enough that he might give something away. "Are you sure you got enough info out of my brain, Doc? Maybe you missed something? Or maybe 'Christopher' held a few things back, or lied to you?"

The doctor smiled smugly. "When our Masters come here and see the enormity of what I have for them, I will receive a great reward."

John jumped on his slip-up. "You haven't told them yet? You've captured the great John Sheppard and you're keeping that a secret from the Wraith?"

The doctor flinched a bit; Sheppard had smartly maneuvered him into saying more than he wished. He attempted to cover his error. "Your capture is just one of several recent victories for my people that I will soon reveal to the Wraith. I merely wish to…make the best possible impression when I do."

"Oh, you just want to show off?"

The doctor smiled; he wouldn't go after Sheppard's bait anymore. "Whatever you call it, Colonel, it still means that we have won."

_**A few days later…**_

It was time to make his move. Although he still was feverish, and his abdomen ached from the surgery, Sheppard had to get out of there. He had a plan, made possible, as so often happened, by his captors' mistakes. Feeling complete superiority over their sick-and-tied-to-a-bed prisoner, the guards had been careless. By careful eavesdropping, John had managed to learn that 1) he was on the 3rd floor of a three-story building; 2) the doctor's office and lab were also on the third floor; 3) there were guard quarters on the first floor, and cells on the second; and 4) there was a village nearby. John hadn't figured out where they kept their weapons, but he knew it wasn't on his floor He had kept track of shift changes and the number of guards per shift. He did not, though – and this was a big problem – have a sense of the total number of people in the building. The same 6 men took turns guarding him, but that didn't mean there wasn't anyone else.

He'd have to try and get away in the daylight; it was risky, but he had no idea where he, or the Stargate, was. Maybe he'd run across a villager who would help him. Although, if this planet was home to Wraith worshippers, everyone might be loyal to them. How could he escape? They never let him out of bed, except for the bathroom. He didn't think they'd fall for the old "I'm sick, something's wrong, my appendix is about to burst, I need help" ploy. That only worked on TV. Unless…..

A guard on each side of John stayed close as he made his way to the bathroom. They were the only ones on the floor; the doctor had gone downstairs for a meal. All of a sudden, Sheppard clutched at his stomach and start moaning "I'm going to throw up, arrggghhh, get me the bucket!" One of the guards grabbed the bucket that John always threw up in, while the other guard quickly jumped out of the way: John had already ruined his boots twice before. With all the drugs and toxins in him, Sheppard had been vomiting a lot after the operation. They always kept the large _metal_ bucket nearby just in case. They gave it to John who…

…swung it at the unsuspecting guard and smashed him in the head. The other man realized a moment too late what was happening, and got clobbered before he could draw his stunner. With both guards down, John took their weapons, crept towards the door of his room and eased it open. It exited out into a long hallway. Over the past few days, John had caught glimpses, when the door was ajar, of one man on duty covering the stairs. John thanked his lucky stars that Wraith stunners were relatively quiet as he took out that guard and dragged his body out of sight. He then moved on to the doctor's office on the hunch that everything 'Christopher' had told him was only kept there, securely under the doctor's control. John found what looked like a data device, similar to what he'd seen on other missions. He had to destroy it. He took one of the stunners, rigged its power source to overload, and then attached it to the Wraith data storage unit. He had three, maybe four minutes before it exploded. With another stunner in his hand, Sheppard slowly made his way downstairs. How many men were on this floor? Where the hell did they keep their weapons? He could hold them off with his stunner for awhile but he'd need something more….Unnhhh! Sheppard cried out as a powerful electric shock suddenly coursed through his body. What the f….?! As John tried to grab onto the railing, a second shock hit him. He collapsed and fell, tumbling down a flight of steps before landing hard at the bottom of the staircase.

The doctor went over to him, with something no larger than a cigarette lighter in his hand. He knelt down next to Sheppard and checked him out. He'd torn open some of the stitches on his incision, but otherwise hadn't hurt himself too badly. Sheppard lay unconscious, crumpled in a heap. He was twitching slightly and bleeding from a gash on his forehead. "The electrodes, John," the doctor tsked tsked, grasping the remote control unit which operated them. "You forgot about the electrodes. Oh, wait a minute, you didn't know I had implanted them, did you. That's too bad – this was a good try." The doctor then motioned to his men. "Take him back upstairs, and try to keep an eye on him this time, please? Oh, and he's not getting out of bed again. For _anything_. Unless you stun him. Or drug him. Or, maybe do both….I do not w…."

It was then that the stunner exploded.

_**TBC…..No worries, poor John will get some help soon! Please read and review. Thanks!**_


	6. Chapter 6 -- Rescue and Revelations

**It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer**

**Chapter 6**

**Rescue and Revelations**

_**Inside the Wraith Worshippers' Compound…**_

The doctor, holding onto his injured arm, stood stunned and dismayed inside his devastated office. It had only taken him a few minutes of stumbling through the wreckage to realize he was wasting his time. Sheppard had thwarted him again. The data unit had been obliterated, and with it probably his best chance at elevating himself in the eyes of the Wraith. In fact, if the next round of attacks failed, then the doctor could also say goodbye to his life. Thank the Masters that he had transferred the Colonel's biological specimens and data to Xethos. Work on isolating his ATA gene and the associated proteins and enzymes was proceeding well, as were the analyses of Sheppard's full-body scans.

The prisoner had been moved to a room on the second floor. In his fury, the doctor had wanted to throw him into one of the filthy cells instead. Sheppard was too vulnerable to infection, though, and needed to be under close medical care. But once the doctor had no further use for him…

ooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooo oo

John breathed in gingerly, careful not to aggravate his inflamed stitches. God, he wished he could get a shave; his scruffy, days-old beard was itching like hell, and he couldn't raise his arms high enough to scratch. His head was pounding, and his wrists and ankles were chafing painfully against the leather cuffs. It felt like an awfully long time since he HADN'T woken up tied to a table or a bed. C'mon Atlantis, get a move on, he said to himself. I'm running out of options here. He was slowing down the doctor's plans, but he couldn't do that much longer.

John looked up at a sudden sound and….he – and his hospital bed – were in the dimly lit room in the unknown galaxy where he had first met the Azeron. Two of the violet-eyed aliens were with him.

"What do you want _now_!?" said John angrily, remembering to think his words and not speak them. "Are you planning on _not_ rescuing me again? Do you have any idea what I've been going through, thanks to you?"

"Your time may be ending soon."

"Yeah, I know. You sure have a talent for stating the obvious. If this mad scientist doctor doesn't kill me first, then the Wraith will."

"No, Colonel. Time may soon end for all your people, not just for yourself."

"Uh…say that again?" John was still pretty sick; he must have heard him wrong. Or, the Azeron were just being incredibly cryptic as usual.

"You're not hallucinating, John."

Sheppard took a _long_ moment before he spoke again. "Who exactly are you?" he asked in a quiet, measured tone. He didn't understand why, but he wasn't completely startled by what the Azeron had just said. It was almost like he'd been expecting that, or something else equally…momentous.

"In your language, we would be called 'mid-wives.' "

Oookayyyy, the surreal-o-meter was going up fast.

"Uh, who – or _what_ – is being born?"

"A new people are 'waiting in the wings' as your expression goes. They will succeed all humans, or all Wraith."

And there it was. The Azeron were finally getting to a (scary) point. "So, this _is_ what I thought. It _is_ about our war with the Wraith; whoever wins gets to stay alive, and the loser gets completely destroyed. That's why you kidnapped me, that's why you probed my mind: to see if us humans can put up a good, entertaining fight against the Wraith. Have you done the same thing to a Wraith – kidnapped one of them, dug through his mind, studied how they stack up against humans? You know, it's kinda like that episode of Star Trek, the one where Kirk is forced to match wits with the lizard guy, and whoever loses, their ship gets wiped out by an unknown alien race. Gee, where could _we_ find an all – powerful race like that?" Sheppard said, staring pointedly at the Azeron.

"John, we are not like that," said the Azeron with a slight smile. "Our role is to _prepare the way_ for the arrival of something new. We are not that race itself."

"_Whose_ arrival?! Why is this happening? If you're not the invaders then who….."

And they were gone again, leaving John just as imprisoned, but much, much more confused, than before.

_**Meanwhile, back on Atlantis…**_

"Teyla! It's good to see you up and around," greeted Richard Woolsey. He went over to the table in the cafeteria where Teyla was having breakfast with Ronon and McKay.

"Anything new on Sheppard? Anything at all?" a hyper Rodney interrupted. He clearly already had too much coffee.

"And good morning to you, _too_, Dr. McKay." Woolsey said brightly. He was learning that the best way to deal with McKay's anxiety was to avoiding feeding into it.

"Jeez, I'm sorry, but all we've gotten for days is crappy leads and I….."

"I share your frustration, Doctor. I am confident, however, that our allies will eventually come up with something."

_**Later that same day…**_

"You've got something?!" Ronon practically yelled at Woolsey in the conference room.

"Yes, yes," said Woolsey excitedly. "Security forces on the planet Gedrel are holding a suspect for us, a man named Sedrig. Apparently, he got drunk the other evening in a tavern and was boasting about being involved in this last attack on the Sil. The Gedrel believe he is telling the truth."

_**A prison on the planet Gedrel…**_

McKay studied the man that Ronon was towering over, the one who allegedly was involved in Sheppard's kidnapping. He didn't look like a terrorist; in fact, he didn't look very conspicuous at all. Maybe that's why sometimes terrorists were so effective – they were the kind of people you'd never suspect were capable of such violence.

This time around, Ronon had decided to forego the 'breaking furniture' approach in favor of the 'just stand there and terrify the guy' method of interrogation. Major Lorne had initially begun the questioning, but it soon became apparent that, on this particular occasion, Ronon might be better at it.

"Let's go through this again: You say you've been on their planet."

"Yes," answered the man named Sedrig.

"The one where you're certain they're holding Sheppard."

"Yes."

"So what's the planet's name? Where is it? What's the Gate Address?!"

"I told you, _I don't know_. Whenever I travelled there, someone more senior than I always dialed the Ring. I wasn't allowed to know the address, or the planet's name, for security reasons. I have not yet earned the right to know such important information."

Ronon was about to boil over. "Is that really the answer you want to give us?!"

"If I knew it, I'd tell you," Sedrig answered pathetically.

Teyla was with Ronon and McKay on Gedrel. Feeling better and recovering from her injuries, she wanted to witness the interrogation and be more involved in the search for John. She sat looking at the prisoner with a puzzled look on her face, and then asked, "What does it look like?"

"What does _what_ look like?" the man answered.

"The planet – what does it look like – what are its features?" Teyla asked again.

McKay scoffed. "Pardon me, Teyla, but what kind of question is that? It's a planet. Trees, grass, blue sky, all the usual stuff."

"Blue sky and green vegetation are not always 'usual' on some worlds, Rodney," reminded Teyla. "Perhaps the place where John is being held captive looks different."

McKay was surprised. She actually had a very good point.

"Please, Sedrig, tell me what you know of this world," Teyla gently prodded.

"Well…the sky isn't blue; it's sort of a sickly yellow color. The climate is often cool and damp. There's a village, but it's very small. Not much grows there. It's a hard planet to live on. That's why the Compound is there – it doesn't attract a lot of strangers."

"How long are the days?" McKay suddenly asked.

"What?"

"The days – how long are they? – it's a simple question! Oh, and how many moons, if there are any?"

"Uh," stammered Sedrig, "…26 hours. And, during the season it is there now, there's daylight for about 11 hours. There are….two moons. One of them appears quite large in the sky and sometimes looks pale orange."

McKay jumped up excitedly. "I'm heading back to Atlantis. I can cross-reference worlds like he's described with the characteristics of planets where we already know, or that we think, have Wraith Worshipper bases on them. We finally have something to go on!"

_**The rescue mission…**_

Only one planet in the database fit the description that Sedrig had provided and was also rumored to be a Wraith Worshipper stronghold: a planet called Tefra.

The crews of five Jumpers stood at attention in the Gateroom as Major Lorne reviewed the rescue mission logistics.

"Let's go through this one more time, everyone. We've already agreed that an approach a few hours before dawn is the best strategy. It reduces the chances of our being spotted. Each Jumper will cloak immediately upon arriving on Tefra. But remember, because we can only cloak after coming through the Gate, we have to expect that someone might see us, even in the middle of the night, in that brief moment we're exposed. We'll be at the Compound in seconds, but we have to expect that the Wraith Worshippers will have had enough time to get ready for us."

"My team, Major Cappelli's, Captain Bergen's and Captain Elliott's will fly directly to the Compound. Captain Levine, after neutralizing any unfriendlies you will land your Jumper and deploy your men around the Gate. Under no circumstances is anyone to use it. As Dr. McKay has instructed, your team will keep the Gate activated to prevent anyone, such as the Wraith in darts, from coming through."

"The structure: It's defended by a force field that's on 24/7. We'll take it out with drones. The informant says it's a three-story building that can house upwards of 30 people. He isn't sure if they have levels underground. He's only been on the first floor where there are guard quarters, so he doesn't know what's upstairs. So, we have to assume that Colonel Sheppard could be anywhere in the building. We'll scan for his subcutaneous transmitter, but odds are they took it out as soon as he was captured."

"Any questions?" No one had any. "OK, then. Everybody go to the Jumper bay and get ready to move out. We're gonna find the Colonel and bring him home – alive."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo ooooooooooooooooo

The inky blackness surrounding Tefra's gate was suddenly dispelled, bathed in rippling blue light as the five Jumpers came through the event horizon. As planned, Captain Levine's team remained behind at the Gate as Lorne and the others sped off to rescue Sheppard.

The Compound was quiet; it was well past midnight and everyone not on guard duty was asleep. John was where he had been for days now, bound to his hospital bed, and extremely well-guarded, with one man stationed inside his room, and another two outside in the hall.

John awoke with a start. He never slept well here, and often awakened in the night, but something was pulling at him…

Suddenly, explosions rocked the building. The Lanteans were bombarding the force field and taking out land mines they had detected that were booby-trapping the grounds. Inside the Compound, emergency lights came on and ear-splitting alarms began screeching. One of the men guarding Sheppard took off to cover the stairs, but the other two stayed behind. John gave them a look that said, 'you're totally screwed now!' But that was a _bit_ premature, as one guard menacingly drew his stunner while the other began untying John from the bed…

The Compound's external defenses quickly collapsed; they could not withstand a drone attack from four Jumpers. As the ships landed and Sheppard's friends and fellow soldiers moved in, they took heavy fire from Wraith stunners. At least nine Marines fell, dead or wounded, from grenades thrown from one of the upper floors. The weaponry on both sides was powerful and well-matched, but ultimately the Lanteans had the advantage by having more men. They breached the main entrance to the building and then fanned out across the first floor, going from room to room in search of Sheppard. An armory, also on the first level, was quickly secured.

Ronon throttled the first guard he met and shoved his particle gun under, and practically through, the man's chin. "Where is he, what are we up against, and don't even think about lying to me…" he demanded.

"The second floor, the second floor! On the northwest side. Usually there are three men guarding him."

"Thank you," Ronon said, and stunned him twice for good measure. Then he, Lorne, and 8 other men made for the stairs. When they reached the second floor, they were met by surprisingly little resistance. If Sheppard _was_ being held up here, then why…? They soon had their answer. They broke into his locked room and….the Colonel was nowhere to be found.

"He lied to me!" roared Ronon.

"No, I don't think he did," said Lorne. "This door was locked from the _inside_. C'mon, there must be another exit."

There was. A hidden staircase led down from John's room to an underground tunnel system. The Lanteans didn't know about it, because the low-level informant didn't either. Two guards were now dragging along a handcuffed Sheppard in a desperate attempt to escape. But John wasn't going easily. He knew that he was too valuable for them to kill; he was an asset the Wraith Worshippers were trying to protect, not a human shield who might die if they got into a shoot-out with the Lantean forces. The guards wanted to get the hell out of the Compound, and do it fast. John did his best to slow them down. He went limp, trying to make it difficult for them to keep up a quick pace. His plan backfired, though, when one of the guards stunned him and was big and strong enough to sling Sheppard over his shoulder.

John could just not catch a break – or maybe he could.

The Jumper attacks on the force field and the land mines had collapsed part of the tunnel. When Lorne's team finally caught up with them where they had been stopped by debris, the guards had no choice but to surrender.

Sheppard's ordeal was finally over. At least THIS one was. According to the Azeron, something worse might lie ahead.

_**TBC…..I hope you enjoyed this! Please read and review! John's free for now, but many dangers await!**_


	7. Ch 7 -- Trying to Make Sense of it All

**It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer**

**Chapter 7 – Trying to Make Sense of it All**

_**A few hours after Sheppard's rescue from the Wraith Worshippers…**_

As John began to stir, his hand brushed up against the metal rail of his bed and the crispness of hospital linens. For a panicked second, he thought he was back with the doctor and that his rescue had been a cruel illusion. But, what was that noise? Food munching. Cracking open an eye, he saw McKay sitting by him, balancing his tablet on his lap while eating a sandwich. Ahhh, thought John. The comforting sounds of home.

"Hey, Rodney, can you save me some of that?" John teased in weak, raspy voice.

McKay almost dropped his lunch. "Sheppard?! Everybody, Jennifer, he's awake!"

"Hey, guys," said Sheppard with a tired, but very happy grin. Teyla, Ronon, McKay, Keller, and Woolsey somehow all managed to fit around the bed.

Teyla was the first to speak. Her expressive brown eyes conveyed everyone's relief that he was finally awake. "John, we were so concerned. How are you feeling?"

"Well…I've been better, ya know and…hey, Teyla, what's with the cast and sling? – oh, god, the attack on Sil." With so much happening to him personally, Sheppard had forgotten what had started it all – the terrorist bombings.

Teyla was quick to reassure him. "We're fine, John. Jennifer did an excellent job taking care of us. But there were, sadly, many other casualties." Seeing that Sheppard looked distressed, she added "We can talk about it a little later, alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just glad you're all ok." He then asked, "Uh, how long have I been here? I don't remember exactly…"

"About 4 hours," answered Dr. Keller. "You were kind of a mess when they brought you in, but you should make a full recovery. I'm going to keep you in the infirmary for at least three days, though. Non-negotiable!" she added, as John opened his mouth to object. "Now, let me check your vitals, and the condition of those stitches…may I?" John nodded 'yes.' Jennifer gently moved his scrub top aside to reveal a long, angry-looking, partially healed incision. "Colonel, these are _surgical_ stitches. How…why…do you have these? Were you beaten? Did you have internal bleeding?"

"Uh, it's complicated…uh, you could say that I ate something that didn't agree with me," John waffled. Jeez, on any other occasion that would be about the best line ever. Boy, he had an awful lot of things to explain this time around!

Jennifer looked at him in complete puzzlement. The Colonel always was reluctant to discuss, or even acknowledge his injuries, but mysterious surgery?

Rapidly changing the topic, Sheppard added, "What happened? I remember that it was practically World War III in the Compound, and a couple of guards had me. Ronon and Lorne got me outta that tunnel and we were heading to a Jumper and…"

"And," finished Ronon, "you keeled over, out cold. I barely kept you from falling face down in the mud."

"Why'd I pass out?"

McKay gave him a 'could you possibly ask a more stupid question' look. "Well, it could be because of the 103 degree temperature, dehydration, the two gashes in your head, the concussion, the Wraith stuns, bruised ribs, that infected-looking incision – which is from what, by the way? – and the fact that somehow you managed to lose 10 lbs in 6 days and I can't lose 10 lbs in 6 months!"

"Really, I was gone for 6 days?" John said in amazement.

"Yes, Colonel," Woolsey replied. He then said, "John, I know we just got you home, and you're injured, but protocol requires that you be debriefed as soon as possible. It's particularly important considering who kidnapped you. We of course took all the necessary precautions while you were gone – changing security access codes, recalling off-world teams, changing IDCs, putting the alpha and beta sites on alert, and so forth. If they got anything out of you, or if you think they did, we need to talk right away."

"As soon as he's well enough," said Jennifer.

"It's OK, doc," said John grimly. "I do need to be debriefed right away. Uh, what they did to me, it wasn't an ordinary interrogation…" That was an understatement! How in God's name was he going to explain what had happened, and what sensitive information might or might not have been taken from him, and not by people, but by a bunch of creepy über aliens and a 6-inch long escapee from a restaurant's raw bar?

Woolsey eyed Sheppard with concern. "John…not that I'm saying you would willingly…ah, were you compromised?"

John took a second to answer. "Uh, yeah, but that's complicated, too."

"OK, Sheppard, what's with all of this 'it's complicated' crap?" demanded McKay. "You're being really cryptic…and you're starting to scare me, frankly. What exactly happened?"

"Yes, and speaking of what happened, Colonel Sheppard," interjected Dr. Keller, trying to take back _some_ control of her own infirmary, "_why did they operate on you? _Why did they do a spinal tap, and a bone marrow biopsy, and all kinds of tissue sampling? You have tiny marks all over your torso which are signs that they biopsied several of your organs. And why do you have all of those electrodes imbedded under your skin? I have to say, you're one of the most interesting patients I've seen in a long time."

John looked at Jennifer, quite stunned. What the hell had they _really_ done to him, besides forcing that mutant piece of seafood down his throat? "I can explain about the operation, and those electrodes, but the other stuff? Oh, no," John said, a horrible thought occurring to him. "I was unconscious for hours while the symbiote was taking over. They must have used that time to…" John suddenly stopped talking as he realized he was basically thinking out loud, and kind of freaking out his friends.

"What symbiote?! Was it the Goa'uld again? What did they need tissue samples for? Were you-" The area around Sheppard's bed grew noisy as he was pelted with question after question.

All of a sudden, John felt like he was in the glare of a very big spotlight.

Well, he had to deal with it all sooner or later. "Hey, guys? How about this: let Dr. Keller here do what she needs to do. Then, somebody get me a new uniform and we'll meet in the conference room in, say, an hour?"

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"Tell me again: How many flights of stairs did you fall down, Sheppard?" asked McKay.

John sighed. "One flight. And, no, I am not making this up." Sheppard had been propped up with _a lot_ of meds from Dr. Keller so he could make it through this meeting, but he was starting to think they weren't going to be enough. He took some small comfort from how good his shiny new boots felt as he fielded the questions – and disbelief – of his colleagues.

"Oh, c'mon Sheppard, I mean, think about it: In the middle of you being held prisoner by the Wraith Worshippers, which is bad enough, a group of time-travelling, telepathic, purple aliens…."

"Purple – EYED aliens, Rodney," John corrected. "And they're called Azeron."

"…_pardon me_, a bunch of purple-_eyed _aliens decide to pluck you out of your cell and take you to a galaxy far, far away where they dig through every square inch of your brain, and then send you back to the Wraith Worshippers where _they_ mind-probe you with a symbiote shaped like a giant clam. And on top of that, these Azeron tell you that SOMETIME in the near future, either all the humans or all the Wraith are going to die, but they can't tell you why, only that they're not the ones that are gonna wipe us out, somebody else is. Did I get that right?"

And to think that John could have been working in the family business instead of trying to untangle all of this…

"Look, it sounds worse than it is – well, the being wiped out part is bad – what I mean is, despite everything the Azeron and the cultists learned, I think we may be OK," John tried to explain. "I told you that I destroyed the information that the doctor took from me, and I don't think he kept any other records. He was an egotistical son of a bitch who didn't like to share any of the credit for capturing me. If he hadn't been killed in the raid, I would have shoved a symbiote down his throat and interrogated him myself."

"Yes, it's unfortunate we can't question the doctor," commiserated Woolsey. "I'm leaning towards believing you, Colonel, about the information the symbiote took from you – I suspect you did destroy the only copy. But the doctor also collected medical information about you," Woolsey reminded him. "Now, I'm not a scientist, but I think we can all safely assume that they are trying to isolate your ATA gene. They may have other reasons for taking samples that we haven't even considered yet. Did you ever see any equipment that might be meant for storing biological specimens? Do you think they kept medical data in the Wraith storage system that you destroyed?"

"Richard, like I said before, I had no idea they did any of that to me. They tied me to a chair in a big, empty room and forced me to swallow that…thing. Then, they put me into a coma for six hours while 'Chris the Clam' took over my mind and body. Now, I do remember them saying, as they were knocking me out, that a 'device' of some kind had been calibrated for humans. What the device was, or what it was for, I have no idea. When I was strong enough to fight the symbiote, I could hear what he was giving away…the gate addresses, the coordinates…" John shuddered. "I could even see through his, er, my eyes, but I don't remember anything unusual. And anyways, it was just snatches, you know? Most of the time, I…I couldn't…" Sheppard let his words trail off.

"Several teams are on the planet now, Colonel, scouring the Compound. They'll confiscate computers, medical equipment, anything else that looks valuable," Woolsey assured him. "Dr. McKay, I'd like you to lead a science team to take a look at the Compound, be a second set of eyes. The soldiers will appreciate your help."

"The teams will _need_ my help, Richard," boasted McKay. "No offense, Sheppard, but you military types tend to blow things up first, and then wonder why you can't find the clues and evidence later."

He was kinda right, thought Sheppard, but he wasn't about to give McKay the satisfaction of acknowledging it. He gave him a withering stare instead.

"And, Colonel," continued Woolsey, "what about what the Azeron learned from you? If they're as powerful as they sound…"

John ran his hand in frustration through his already messy hair. "I don't know what to do about the Azeron. I don't even think we _could_ do anything. If they're everything they appear to be, then how do we fight them? I went from the Compound to a room in their galaxy – and I was still in my bed – in half a second. I don't remember any wormhole, any souped-up, Star Trek transporter beam, anything to explain how I got there. What do you do about an enemy who can manipulate time! How do we go up against a race who, pardon the imagery, cracked my head open like a piñata and took whatever goodies fell out?!"

"Christ, Sheppard, when you put it like that, then why bother fighting at all? Sounds like we're pretty much screwed," complained McKay.

"But that's just it, Rodney! I...uh…I can't quite explain why, but I don't think the Azeron are the enemy, at least not the usual kind. Yeah, I've only met them twice and each time they were spouting doom and gloom. But, um…I think they represent something…bigger than they are, and much bigger than us. Remember, I told you they called themselves 'mid-wives.' I think whatever is going on…the Azeron are required to play a part in it and so are we. And, uh, I don't think we have much choice in the matter. But that doesn't mean giving up! We have to figure out what the hell is going on, and stop whoever thinks they can get rid of us."

ooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOooooooooooooooooo

_**A few weeks after Sheppard's kidnapping…**_

…_**on a planet somewhere in Pegasus…**_

"Throw it to me, Leta!" yelled the blonde little boy. He squealed in delight as his sister threw him the ball, which was actually not much more than a tough piece of leather stuffed with sawdust and crudely sewn together.

"Aw, Leta, he's too little to play with us, let's go somewhere else," complained an older boy of about thirteen.

"Yes, we can go over to the big rocks. Those kids are too small to climb on them, anyways," said another older child.

And with that, Leta and her friends took their Pegasus version of a football and ran off, leaving behind Leta's brother and two other very unhappy eight year-old boys.

The blonde little boy scuffed his foot in disappointment against the hard, dusty ground. What could they play with now? His stupid sister had…

"Sarn, would you and your friends like to play with these?"

The little boy looked up and was surprised to see two women. They were strangers, but that didn't frighten him. Many people came through their Ring, to trade or visit.

One of the women was holding three silver balls, each about the size of an Earth orange. "Here, there is one for each of you," she said with a smile, kneeling in the dirt to be at the children's level. "If you touch these buttons, they make a pleasant sound and light up in pretty colors."

The boys eagerly accepted the gifts. "Thank you very much! These are much better than what the big kids have!" Sarn pushed one of the buttons and, as promised, it glowed with a beautiful light. "Hey, this matches your eyes," he said. "It's so purple and bright!" He and his friends then ran away, happy with their new toys.

The Azeron, in contrast, looked on sadly. The message had been sent, and would soon reach its destination.

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"What's so urgent, Mr. Woolsey?" asked John, entering the control room.

"We've received an unusual message from one of our allies, the Hesca. They lost contact with one of their trading partners, the Lytarans, two days ago. They can't dial their Gate. Other planets that trade with the Lytarans can't dial them either."

"A Wraith Culling? Or another attack by the Wraith worshippers?"

"I sincerely hope not. However, we won't know until we check out the planet. I'd like you and your team – make that multiple teams – to go through the Space Gate nearest to the planet and find out what happened. If we're lucky, it might be as simple as mechanical failure."

"Or Wraith cultists, again…" The attacks had continued in the weeks since Sheppard's abduction. With intelligence gleaned from their allies, they had managed to stop one bombing, but not another three, which in total had killed 14 people.

"Let's focus on mechanical failure right now, shall we, Colonel?"

oooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooo o

It took them nearly two hours to reach the planet from the nearest Space Gate. Along with Sheppard, Teyla, Ronon and McKay were Dr. Keller and her colleague, Dr. Chen. Two more Jumpers accompanied them, with Major Lorne and Major Cappelli leading the other teams.

"Alright, folks, we're here," Sheppard announced as the Jumper entered a high orbit. "I'm not detecting any Wraith ships. Rodney, how about you?"

"Nothing so far, but you know, darts are pretty fast, and Hives and cruisers, they might be about to pounce on us any second from hyperspace, so you never…"

"McKay, nothing _imminently_ about to blast us out of the sky?"

"Uh, nope."

"Good, let's bring the Jumpers down and take a closer look."

Sheppard and the two other cloaked Jumpers eased into low orbit around the Lytaran home world. At the helm, Sheppard never took his eyes off the console, alert to the slightest sign of Wraith. The Wraith – if they _were_ the reason no one could contact the Lytarans – were probably gone from this system. They seldom lingered after a Culling, unless that world had something more to offer than food. So why couldn't John quell the gnawing anxiety in his stomach? Even Rodney seemed unusually jumpy.

"Any life signs?" asked Sheppard.

"Uh…oh, God. The population of this world is supposed to be, what...a few thousand?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right," answered John, a hint of worry creeping into his voice.

"Sheppard…" Rodney said slowly, "I'm not reading _anything_. There are no life signs – human or Wraith – at all. What I _am_ reading is massive energy residue from…Wraith fire."

The Wraith had struck again, just as they had feared. The Jumpers flew, silent and invisible, over smoldering ruins and countless dead.

"Goddamn it!" Sheppard pounded the console angrily. He had seen this too many times. He took a minute to regain his composure and then said, "I want to set down and take a look around."

"Take a look around for _what_, Sheppard?" said Rodney incredulously. "I just told you – no survivors."

"A reason," John answered. "Don't ask me why, but I don't think this was an ordinary attack."

"But the Wraith..?" reminded Rodney nervously.

"I think they're done with this place, McKay," Sheppard snapped with regret and disgust.

The three Jumpers landed in minutes and the crews quickly disembarked. As they explored the area, Sheppard heard Rodney muttering to himself. "What is it, McKay?"

"Uh, I don't understand why this world was culled."

"Uh, pretty basic, Rodney – Wraith need humans, humans get culled."

"No, I mean, this system, this part of the galaxy, they haven't had a lot of attention from the Wraith. Maybe it's the planets' low populations, maybe it's because their level of technology is rather modest. I would not have put Lytara on a list of 'about to get culled soon.' No interesting technology, no natural resources to exploit. Nothing that says 'come and get us.'

"Do you have to practice how to sound that insensitive, McKay, or does it just come to you naturally!? Jesus!" Sheppard was absolutely fuming.

Teyla stepped in to try and defuse the situation. "John, I am certain Rodney did not mean to sound that way. He is just trying to make sense of this, as we all are. Please be calm; we must not let anger get the best of us."

"Teyla's right," said McKay. "Sheppard, I'm sorry, but you know what I mean, and you know it's true. Maybe this attack is just a fluke, or maybe, like you seem to think, this wasn't an ordinary Culling."

As if in confirmation that something just wasn't right about the place, their LSD's and Rodney's tablet began sending out frantic warnings. A volley of Wraith stun beams came at them from about 75 feet ahead. Sheppard and his team dived for cover behind some ruined walls. Cries of pain could be heard as several soldiers from the other Jumpers were hit by the surprise attack.

"McKay, there's Wraith here! How the hell did you miss them?!" hissed Sheppard, crouching down low as shot after shot soared over their heads.

"Sheppard, I swear, they weren't there a second ago! No life forms but us!"

"Well, they're here now, McKay, so either they just beamed down or your equipment is totally f…"

"Wait a minute! Where'd he go? I'm not reading him anymore." Rodney turned his tablet towards Sheppard. The only blips on it were clumped in one large group – the Atlantis teams. As Sheppard stared at the read-out, yet another round of weapons fire hit the walls.

"What the hell is going on? OK, enough of this." Sheppard removed two grenades from his vest and handed one to Ronon. "About 75 ft away, at 2 o'clock," he whispered. "On three: 1, 2, 3…." The two men lobbed the grenades in the direction of the there-one-minute-gone-the-next Wraith. The powerful explosions shook the ground and rained dirt and rocks upon their heads. Sheppard gave an order over his earpiece for everyone to remain quiet and in position. After several seconds, and hearing no return fire, Sheppard tentatively looked out from behind the wall: nothing. He checked in with Cappelli and Lorne; they detected no movement from the enemy, either.

"OK, everybody. Let's check this out. My team will go in first. If I signal that it's ok, then Lorne, you move in, followed by Cappelli's team."

Sheppard and his team-mates cautiously approached the Wraith's position. No weapons fire. No life signs besides the humans. OK, he was dead…

The Wraith came out of nowhere, it seemed, firing his stunner. With a yelp of pain, Dr. Keller fell to the ground. Before the creature could hurt anyone else, Sheppard hit him with round after round…

The attack wasn't the biggest surprise, however. The crashed Wraith dart, appearing and disappearing in front of their eyes amidst the crackling of its malfunctioning energy field, _was._

The Wraith ship had cloaking technology.

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"Is she alright?" asked McKay frantically, as Dr. Chen examined Jennifer.

"Is the damn thing dead?" asked Sheppard, as Ronon kicked at the Wraith who had taken a chest-ful of bullets.

"Yeah, he is…..NO, he's not!" yelled Ronon, as the creature opened its eyes and grabbed for his leg. Ronon planted a boot on its throat and motioned with his gun for the Wraith to stay still.

Hardly able to take his eyes off of the semi-cloaked dart, Sheppard started to question the Wraith.

"Why did you come here? How many more of you are on this planet!?"

Silence.

Sheppard placed the tip of his rifle in the middle of the creature's forehead. "C'mon…Fred… be smart. Answer my questions. You know I'm gonna kill you anyways. Do you want it to be quick or slow?"

'Fred' wasn't stupid. "We followed the beacons and gloried in the Culling!"

"What beacons?"

"The beacons utilized if any of our brethren are lost."

Sheppard got a sick feeling in his stomach. This sounded like their mission to the planet of the children, where the beacon on the Wraith corpse was accidentally activated.

"Where were they?"

"What does it matter to you, human? You cannot reverse what was done! The beacons brought us to this world; there were few humans here but they slaked our hunger! If my ship had not malfunctioned, I would be with my fellow Wraith celebrating our victory."

Speaking of beacons…Sheppard suddenly had a terrible thought: this Wraith was probably transmitting his own emergency signal. More Wraith might show up any minute! "What about you? Why haven't your people retrieved you?"

More silence. Sheppard again aimed his weapon at the creature.

The Wraith grimaced and answered him. "I do not know why. They may believe I am dead. There was a brilliant light and then an explosion which sent my ship out of control. But…my beacon is functional and yet two days have passed! Perhaps our Queen has ordered me punished for some reason…"

"What about the Ring? Why doesn't it work?"

The Wraith gave him a treacherous smile. "Some humans were foolish enough to try and escape through it, so we stopped them…"

Sheppard went to blow the Wraith's head off, but then had second thoughts. "Stun him and take him back to Atlantis," he ordered a group of Marines. "I want to talk with him later."

Sheppard then went to find McKay. He was crouched down next to an unconscious Dr. Keller, holding her hand and looking extremely concerned. "She's going to be OK, thank god! They just stunned her."

"Uh, Rodney" asked Sheppard, "I'm really glad she'll be alright, but I need your help for a minute. According to this Wraith, several of their emergency beacons led them here. Did this world have any ruins, like on Athos, where a beacon could have been found and triggered by mistake? "

"I don't know; I'll look it up. We never formally visited the Lytarans. I can ask the Hesca what they knew about the Lytaran's village…"

"Well, get on it!"

"Sheppard, you don't need to yell. I'll find something out as fast as I can!"

"Jeez, I'm sorry, Rodney. It's just that, there's been too much going on lately: this Wraith attack, the Wraith Worshipper bombings, me being kidnapped, oh, and don't forget the Azeron. Things are not right. And now this! Why would the Wraith target what seems like an insignificant little planet?"

"Well…Sheppard, maybe you don't want to hear this right now, but I have a theory."

"OK, I'll bite: Why _did_ this planet get culled?

"It's not the kind of world we'd expect to be targeted."

"So, I'll ask AGAIN, McKay: Why? It has to be special in some way that we don't know about!"

"Arrgghh, how can I get this through your one-track, military mind, Sheppard? The reason I think they were attacked is because_ they're not special_. From what I can tell, this planet doesn't stand out in any way. That makes it the perfect target for a terror campaign. Hit the place your enemy ISN'T afraid you'll go after. It's a highly effective scare tactic, being unpredictable and illogical. You know what? I think the Wraith Worshippers planted a beacon to lure the Wraith here. This time, the cultists didn't target the Pegasus equivalent of a big town or city on Earth. They wanted to hit a small, quiet village, a place where no one would expect, in a million years, anything this tragic to happen."

Damn it, Sheppard thought. _Of course_ he was right. So why did he need McKay to remind him of something so obvious? Probably because McKay, as a civilian, had a perspective on the ordinary, everyday world that John or another soldier didn't, or couldn't, have.

"You're right, Rodney," John answered sadly. "But just because they did it once does not mean we'll stand by and let them do it again. C'mon, we've got a cloaked dart to check out and a Wraith to interrogate. Let's get moving."

As McKay and Sheppard walked back to the others, neither noticed the silvery shimmer as the Azeron, too, went away.

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It was several hours before they went home. As the Jumpers disappeared into the sky, the late-day sun cast long shadows which slowly crept through what remained of the village. Soon they touched the lonely outcrop of rocks…and the remnants of a child's toy leather ball, charred and torn and leaking sawdust.

_**TBC….Sorry for the delay since the last chapter. Here's an extra long one. Between that annoying thing called 'a job' and now 25 inches of snow, I'm way behind. Please read and review! I hope to post another chapter within a week.**_


	8. Chapter 8 -- Could it Get Any Worse?

**It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer**

**Chapter 8**

**Can it Get Any Worse?**

Sheppard awoke with a start in the night, but to nothing more than the black stillness of his room. He missed Lydia. His lover was on Earth, lending her expertise to astrobiologists studying life in the Milky Way. She had left a few weeks ago, and wouldn't be home for at least two months. With a sigh and a grunt he got up, pulled on some clothes, and jogged out into the soothing quiet of a darkened Atlantis to escape the loneliness of his bed.

The last time he'd been this restless had been after his rescue on Earth from Nash. He had started a relationship with Lydia a short time later, a relationship that had been his salvation as John struggled to come to grips with what had happened. In the months since then, Lydia had become more than his lover. She was someone to talk to, to lean on, and to keep him focused as he navigated the unique complexities of life in Pegasus.

John had not told Lydia about his recent abduction. He couldn't; Woolsey and SGC wouldn't allow it. But he was sorely tempted to. He could talk to Lydia in ways he couldn't with his friends. The entire experience had left John more than a little shaken up. The Wraith Worshippers seemed to have re-invented themselves. And the Azeron…, shit, the Azeron were unlike any challenge he had faced before. Despite the odds, John did believe he could get through it all, but how?

John stopped for a brief rest and checked his watch: nearly midnight. He had to be up by 7:00 AM. Plenty of time left for another run. Who needed sleep anyways?

And with that, Sheppard took off running as hard and fast as he could. He knew it was a form of self-delusion, but right now, he'd allow nothing and no one to catch him.

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_**On Atlantis, soon after returning from Lytara…**_

McKay, Zelenka and a few other scientists were in the Jumper Bay poring over the Wraith dart that had crashed on Lytara. At the moment, McKay was examining the ship's exterior. The Wraith pilot had said that a brilliant light and then an explosion had caused him to crash. That puzzled Rodney. What had happened, exactly? He knew the Lytarans had no technology remotely capable of damaging a Wraith vessel. There was scorching from energy beam fire on the outside of the ship, so that probably ruled out a malfunction _inside_. McKay hadn't found any damage that might have been from by a micro-meteor or other space debris. He was now considering the possibility that 'friendly fire' had brought down the ship. There were certainly enough darts around during a Culling to cause an accident. It seemed plausible to Rodney until he took a closer look…

"Hmm…? What the heck is that…That doesn't look like…!?" muttered the scientist, talking to himself. "Radek...?" McKay spun around, searching out his colleague. He saw him across the room at a large table covered with bits and pieces of the ship. "Oh, there you are. Come here and check this out. There's something really weird going on with this dart."

"What is it you need, Rodney?" complained Zelenka, in a rare display of irritation. "The cloaking technology on this dart is quite fascinating, I really am eager to…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Radek, take a look at this." Zelenka reluctantly pushed his glasses up and moved in closer to see what McKay was pointing at.

"Uh, Rodney, I have seen that already, it is residue from weapons fire; how is that 'weird'?"

"Oh, oops, here, use these." McKay handed him a pair of goggles that were, in effect, like a portable microscope. He then placed his hand on the charred area. "See where my hand is? Focus in on the section about three inches below."

Radek was amazed at what he saw. Concentrated in an area only a few inches square were dozens of tiny holes which had pierced the hull. They were all spaced equally apart, and were so tiny as to be completely invisible to the naked eye. Radek had never seen anything like it.

He pulled the goggles off slowly. "Rodney, what are those? Wraith weapons do not leave such markings."

"I know they don't! And, did you notice that the holes were targeted with pinpoint accuracy over the most vulnerable part of the dart's propulsion system. This is bizarre. Ok, as far as what's going on with this ship, let's go back to square one."

"So, what do we have?" McKay began ticking off the facts. "We've got a big flash of light before the explosion. We've got a dart that's been hit by a type of weapon we've never seen before. I can't even start to describe the problems we have now that the Wraith have cloaking capabilities. And, finally, we have the beacon…"

"Oh, yes, the beacon. It also presents a problem." Radek commented. "I am glad you talked Colonel Sheppard into letting you examine it before he destroyed it on Lytara. From the digital images that you took, and from what you told me, it looked intact and resembled other beacons we have seen before. Now, the Wraith believed it was fully functional. However, none of our Jumpers detected it, from in orbit or on the ground. You scanned it repeatedly; it was not generating a signal, not even a faint one."

"Aaannnddd? What have you found out? You're not telling me anything I don't already know!"

Radek resisted the urge to swear under his breath in Czech, and continued with his report.

"From what remains of it, I theorize that not only should the beacon have worked, but also it looks like, what is the phrase, 'a new and improved model.' Please come and look at it." McKay walked over to the table on which the fragments were displayed. "See this?" Radek pointed at a melted-together blob of crystal and other parts. "My preliminary analyses indicate that this beacon is made of more durable materials than the few examples we have seen in the past. Additionally, it was installed in a section of the dart that was relatively undamaged by the weapons fire or the crash, so how could _**it**_ be damaged? Rodney, I can find no reason why the beacon failed to function. What do _you_ think?"

McKay was about to (grudgingly) admit that he didn't have a clue about what was going on when suddenly inspiration struck.

"Uh, I have an idea." McKay tapped his earpiece. "Sheppard!" There was a moment's delay. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize what time it was...yes, 2300 hours _**is**_late," McKay grimaced at Radek. "But I've got something, and I need you to go wake up that Wraith and let me talk to him."

A few minutes later, Sheppard met them in the hall outside of the holding cell area. He was wearing his usual black pants, a rumpled t-shirt, and a foul mood.

"This better be worth it, McKay. You interrupted the first decent night's sleep I've had in days."

"It is, I promise. And, if it makes you feel less cranky, I think it might have something to do with the Azeron."

"Really?" exclaimed John. "Well, if it does, I'll get you a six month's supply of blue Jell-O! Otherwise, you're _really_ going to pay for waking me up."

They entered the secure room. Sheppard dismissed the guards on duty and then stepped back to see what the hell McKay and Zelenka were up to.

As he heard them enter, 'Fred' looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, only mildly curious about what his captors wanted at this hour.

"Hey, Fred, how ya doing?" greeted Sheppard with his best smarmy grin. "Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep, but Dr. McKay here had an urgent need to see you – in the middle of the night—…" John glared at Rodney.

Ignoring him, McKay went up to the cell carrying a metal box. From it he removed what was left of the beacon, along with a digital image of the microscopic holes found in the dart's outer 'skin.' The Wraith suddenly stood up and slowly approached the force-field 'wall' of his cell; clearly, McKay had gotten the creature's attention.

Sheppard looked from the Wraith, to the box, and then to McKay, extremely puzzled but smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

"Uh, hey there," began McKay awkwardly. "Uh, I want to ask you a few questions."

"I have nothing to say to you or any other human," growled the Wraith.

"Well, you might after I tell you a few things," teased McKay. "Now, you swore that your beacon was working on the planet, right? RIGHT?" 'Fred' nodded, intrigued. What was this human up to? "Well, my colleagues and I agree with you. As far we can tell, there was _nothing_ wrong with it."

"Why is this important, human? Are you merely mocking me with the fact that my people apparently ignored the distress call and chose to abandon me on that pathetic world?!"

"No, I'm not mocking you. Take a look at this," McKay raised the digital photo up to the force field. "This is an enlargement of about 40 microscopic holes that were bored into the hull of your dart, all the way through into your propulsion system. I don't know of any weapon that can do that. Do you?"

Sheppard was watching Fred intently. He saw the creature's eyes flicker, if only for a second, with…defensiveness? Uncertainty? Hmm, McKay was on to something.

McKay detected the creature's slip-up, too, and smiled to himself. He started to ask another question when Sheppard decided to step in.

"You're sure you've _never_ seen anything like this before?" Nothing. The Wraith had become stone-faced. "Oh, c'mon, Fred," wheedled Sheppard. "If this is some sort of top-secret weapon that the Wraith have come up with, and somehow _one of your own guys shot you down_, well, I can understand if you're embarrassed and don't want to talk about it."

"Our pilots do not make such blundering errors!" snapped the Wraith.

"So it's _not_ a Wraith weapon?" retorted Sheppard.

The Wraith opened his mouth to speak and then closed it an instant later. Ah, another tiny slip-up.

McKay spoke again. "Just a few more questions, Ok? Did your scanner detect any incoming fire?" Rodney, expecting no answer, was surprised when the Wraith said, "I detected nothing."

Sheppard suddenly realized where McKay was going with all of this. He interrupted him and asked, "You also said that there was a brilliant flash of light just before you were hit. Do you think that came from the weapon?"

"No, I do not."

"Well, I think it was a wormhole and that someone fired a weapon through it. What do you think, Fred?"

The Wraith surprised them one last time. "I think, Sheppard, that even though you are a mere human…you may be correct."

oooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOO OOOoooooooooooooooo

Sheppard, McKay and Zelenka left the Wraith and returned to the hallway.

"You're right Rodney, it's the Azeron again. I think they shot our friend down so that we could find him and learn that the Wraith have cloaking technology."

"Yeah, Sheppard, but why?"

"I don't know, McKay, but the Azeron appeared right when things were heating up with the Wraith Worshippers. And, remember, they said that the 'new race' would replace the humans _or_ the Wraith. Maybe they're taking our side after all, and wanted us to know that the Wraith can cloak."

Zelenka then spoke up. He had been quiet during the entire interrogation. "Colonel Sheppard, Rodney, uh…I hate to say this, but…"

"Spit it out, Radek!" urged McKay.

He did. "…there would have been no Wraith ship for us to find, if there had been no Culling…"

_**Three weeks after the tragedy on Lytara…**_

"Unauthorized off-world activation!" alerted Chuck, the Gate technician on duty.

Richard Woolsey walked quickly from his office to the Control Room. "Any IDC, Chuck?"

"Yes, it's Dr. Reinhold."

"Reinhold, Reinhold…ah, she's one of the scientists on M5M-811. Lower the shield, please, Chuck."

The shield lowered and Dr. Amy Reinhold came through…running, bleeding, and crying out "It's the Wraith Worshippers, they attacked us, you have to…!" before collapsing on the floor of the Gate room. She was dead before a medical team could reach her.

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_**M5M-811…**_

Sheppard's team and two other Jumpers came streaking through the Gate on M5M-811. A MALP sent through earlier had not drawn any Wraith fire or detected their presence. In fact, there had been no signs of life at all.

M5M-811 was the site of an Ancient spacecraft research facility that Sheppard's team had discovered several months ago. Since then, a small group of scientists had been stationed there, analyzing a bonanza of information and technology. The Lanteans cautiously approached the building, minus Teyla. She had stayed behind in the City. On their earlier visit, she had been injured when her Wraith DNA triggered an automated defense system designed to attack Wraith intruders.

Taking inspiration from this innovative defense mechanism, Atlantis had designed a very specialized security process for the M5M-811 site and other sensitive facilities. Only those individuals whose identity was confirmed through a scan of their unique electromagnetic field were allowed access to the building, its equipment and files. In addition to the scientists and security staff, only a handful of other people could enter the facility…among them, Colonel John Sheppard.

Sheppard was painfully aware of this fact as they wandered through the site, trying to figure out what had happened. All of the Atlantis personnel had been slaughtered. It was a miracle that Dr. Reinhold had escaped. Equipment, computers, pieces of Ancient technology, anything that could be taken away through the Gate was gone.

"How in God's name did this happen, McKay?" Sheppard knew that there was always the possibility that if Atlantis knew the location – either through its Gate address or space coordinates – of an important scientific or military outpost left behind by the Ancients, then the Wraith might, too. They'd had 10,000 years to find out! But then, his people were always taking that gamble when they set up teams on other worlds, weren't they? In each case, they prayed that they would never lose the bet. This time, though, they did.

"Uh, just give me a second, Sheppard. We may have got a lucky break here." McKay gave a grunt as he yanked something out of a damaged console. "It's the digital video security system. Let me see if I can pull up any images."

Soon, Sheppard and the others were gathered around McKay, peering at grainy video images which were nonetheless clear enough to show Wraith Worshippers breaking in and killing their colleagues one by one.

"Jesus…" said Sheppard in despair. "Uh, McKay, what about video from outside? The exterior of this place is damaged, but not that much. How did they get in? Why didn't security personnel stop them? How did they even get past the Gate?!"

McKay coaxed the weapons-scorched equipment into giving up some additional images. "Here we go…uh, oh. Oh, my god."

The surviving video showed scene after scene of horror. Two or three Wraith darts were firing on the grounds of the facility, killing anyone who happened to be outside. Then, a small group of Wraith cultists could be seen walking towards the building, fiddling with something on their wrists.

"What are they doing, McKay?" asked Sheppard. "Can you zoom in?"

He could. "Uh, this is an educated guess, Sheppard, but I think they're over-riding the security system. Remember, you have to have your electromagnetic signature on file in order to gain entry. I don't see that the darts blew any huge holes in the building – they'd risk damaging the contents doing that – so this must be how the Wraith Worshippers got in – disarming the biometrics."

When McKay said that, all of a sudden Sheppard wanted to throw up. "Oh shit, oh shit. McKay, remember all of the medical equipment we confiscated from the Compound? That big, cylindrical object…?"

"The thing that was smashed? Yeah. Jennifer and I think it's similar to the Ancient scanners we have on Atlantis, kind of like MRIs on Earth. Considering that the doctor took specimens from you, we're thinking that the machine is some sort of cloning technology. We've no way of knowing for sure, though. We can't make it work, we never found the equivalent of an instruction manual, the doctor is dead, and your biological samples have disappeared."

"Rodney, what if it could scan something besides the physical body? What if it could copy my electromagnetic field? What if what they're wearing on their wrists is somehow…uh…emitting some kind of field, with my electromagnetic signature built into it?"

McKay went pale. "If it could do that, Sheppard, then there are 3 other top-secret facilities out there that are vulnerable to attack. We have to alert them right away – and delete all traces of you from their security systems!"

oooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo ooooo

_**A few days later…**_

Sheppard was sitting outside of Woolsey's office, waiting to see him. He felt like he'd been called to the principal's office. Certainly, enough had been going wrong lately to make John think he was in trouble.

"Ah, Colonel, there you are," Woolsey said, opening the door. "Please come in and sit down."

"Uh, what have I done this time, huh?" joked Sheppard tentatively.

Woolsey wasn't smiling. "I've been asked to revisit your debriefing after your recent abduction. With everything that's been happening…well, Colonel Caldwell and SGC are becoming…concerned."

"Richard, I'll say it again. What they did to me, what they took from me…I did my damned best to stop them, but I can't be sure how much they learned."

"It may have been quite a lot."

"What? Are you blaming me for what's been going on?!"

"No, no, of course not, Colonel. _I'm _not, but…" Woolsey was looking uncomfortable.

"But SGC, the IOA, they are."

"Not blame, Colonel; it's just… whenever someone is taken by the enemy, the possibility of them being compromised always exists, no matter who the person is. And there is always the likelihood that they give information to the enemy freely, rather than have it coerced from them."

"_**You are not suggesting**_…."

"No, Colonel, no, I'm not. It's just that, in my position, I have to consider and investigate everything quite thoroughly."

"Well, let's jump to the point where you've considered it and crossed 'treason' off your list, OK!? Now, yeah, the Wraith can cloak their darts, but think about it: I don't know _exactly_ how cloaking works, I don't know how to install it on a ship, so they must already have had the technology before their followers grabbed me."

"The location of the facility on M5M-811…?"

Sheppard gave Woolsey a black, seething look. "How could you possibly think that I would ever...! You know very well that the Wraith could have found out about that site _on their own_…!"

"Colonel…" Woolsey warned. "Please _do_ _not_ take this out on me personally. I'm not the enemy here, remember?"

Sheppard managed to rein in his anger a little. "What do you want from me, Richard? Because, frankly, I'm doing the best I can, you know?"

"I know you are. But, if you can remember anything in addition to what you've already told us, that would be even better. Go back and re-read the transcripts from your debriefing. We could even try relaxation therapy techniques, hypnosis, a Vulcan mind-meld…"

Sheppard's eyebrows went up at that last one. "Vulcan mind-meld…?"

"I'm an administrator, Sheppard; my attempts at humor are necessarily quite limited."

John grinned at Woolsey's effort to relieve the tension. "I'll see what I can do, Richard, but I'm not guaranteeing anything."

oooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooo ooooo

_**A few days later, 2 AM, in Woolsey's office…**_

"How can that be possible, Richard? Tell me!" Sheppard was livid.

"Colonel, I know how bizarre this all sounds. Chief Judge Salos says that the murderer was attacked and killed by guards while fleeing the scene after he assassinated Prefect Trelesk. That's how they came to identify him as 'you.' Now, I've already told Salos that not only aren't you a murderer, but also that you haven't been on his planet in more than 5 months. Because relations are quite strong between Atlantis and his world, he says he is inclined to believe me, but has, quite understandably, requested this face-to-face meeting. Please be assured that we _**will**_ get to the bottom of this."

"What's there to talk about? He didn't kill anybody!" Ronon was nearly as angry as John.

"Of course not, no one believes that he did," said Teyla, ever the peacemaker. "Please, can everyone sit down so we can sort this out?"

Sheppard kept moving anyways, shaking his head in disbelief. "It never ends, does it? Since my kidnapping, everything seems to be going to hell!"

ooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooo

Sheppard, Woolsey and the others were on Zariel a few hours later. Although it was before dawn on Atlantis, it was already late in the day for that planet, so there was little time for Sheppard to calm down. Chief Judge Salos met them at the Gate as soon as they arrived.

"Salos, what is going on here?!" Sheppard demanded, stepping right up to the man's face.

"Colonel!" said Woolsey sharply. "Please leave the discussion to me for now. 'Let calmer heads prevail', shall we?"

Ronon reached out a hand to gently but firmly pull John back. Sheppard, wisely, let him.

Salos then addressed Richard. "Mr. Woolsey, you and your colleagues, please come this way. So that we may resolve this matter quickly, I wish to show you the body of the murderer. I believe this is the only way that my government, and all of my people, will accept that an imposter, _not_ Colonel Sheppard, killed our beloved leader."

Salos started to escort the Atlantis visitors to where the body was being kept under guard. Suddenly, a cry rang out from a group of passers-by. "There he is, there is the killer!" shouted a man. "How can he be alive?!" A barrage of rocks came soaring through the air at Sheppard. One hit him on the top of the head, the other on his right cheek, narrowly missing his eye. As he stumbled in pain and surprise, and as his friends surrounded him protectively, Ronon drew his gun. "If you strike him again, you will answer to me." Needless to say, the attack ceased at once.

"Are you alright, Colonel?" asked a frantic Salos. "I'm ok, I'm ok," said Sheppard, pressing a cloth to his bloody face. "Just show us the damn body!"

Salos opened the door to the morgue and…in front of them on a table lay, not a body, but a hideous, slimy, gelatinous remnant of one. In size, shape and color, it was tenuously human, and creepily resembled Sheppard. But no corpse ever rotted this quickly or this horribly. Jutting from the flesh were bones. Tissue and blood formed a disgusting ooze that drip-drip-dripped onto the floor. The stench was overpowering…

"What has happened here!?" exclaimed Salos in shock. "The body…it was not like this…it…it has only been here for less than a day, how could it have decomposed so quickly….?"

"Uh, because, uh, I don't think it's your typical human body." Sheppard replied. Covering his mouth and nose, he dared to approach the table where 'he' lay. "McKay, get over here."

"Uh, no thanks, Sheppard."

"McKay!"

Rodney forced his lunch back down into his stomach and went to stand next to Sheppard.

"He, uh, he does kinda look like me, don't ya think?"

"I'll take your word for it, Sheppard," said McKay, fixing his eyes on the floor.

"Is it a clone?"

"I don't know. If it is, it's a very unstable one." McKay suddenly jumped as a sickening liquid blob came sliding off the corpse and landed with a 'splat' next to his boots. "Uh, Sheppard? I won't be needing that six month supply of blue Jell-O anytime soon, ok?"

"Salos, did anyone interact with this man, speak with him?" asked Woolsey.

"We…we are still investigating that. I, uh, I must get out of here." They could hear Salos throwing up as he ran from the room.

"McKay, if this is a clone, then why did it, he, kill someone?" asked John. "I mean, _**I **_wouldn't have killed Prefect Trelesk, so why would my clone do that? Carson's clone, _**he's**_ perfectly normal, right?"

"I don't know, Sheppard. Maybe you, er, he was brainwashed? Maybe the Wraith Worshippers created this clone, somehow turned him into a killer, and then sent him here. You're a friend of this government, so why would anyone suspect that 'you' were actually an assassin?"

Oh, f…k. "Rodney, how many more Sheppards do you think are out there? Since this clone is obviously pretty badly made, then maybe this was the only one."

"Or," countered McKay ominously, "the clones are made this way on purpose, to exist only for a short time, long enough to serve a particular function – like to murder someone. If that's the case, then…uh…"

"I am going to be very, very busy," moaned Woolsey, burying his face in his hands.

"And I," said Sheppard, touching his still-bleeding face, "am gonna be hit by a lot of rocks – or worse."

_**TBC….Please read my stories Evil Intent; Aftermath-Finding his Way Again; and Unseen Enemy to understand the references to Lydia (OFC) and Teyla. **_

_**The 25 inches of snow are melting, so I'm in a better mood. I'll complete this story soon! In the meantime, please read and review. Thank you.**_


	9. Chapter 9 -- Perseverance

**It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer**

**Chapter 9**

**Perseverance**

Sheppard sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his boots. He was exhausted. The insomnia wouldn't go away, and neither would all the bad news.

The bombings kept happening, but lately there hadn't been too many. Atlantis had encouraged their allies to adopt a 'see something, say something' campaign, and it was apparently working. The situation with the clones, however, had gone from bad to worse. A clone had assassinated a religious leader on Gedrel. On the planet Sedari, one had tried to kill a politician. The man had survived, but was seriously wounded, and that 'Sheppard' had escaped through the Gate. But on other worlds, the bodies of heavily-armed clones were found on the street, dead for no obvious reason and lying in pools of rotting filth. Since then, there had been no further sightings, but John didn't think the clones were gone for good. Their instability might just be a temporary setback.

Woolsey had suggested that Sheppard limit his trips off-world, just to be safe, but John had unequivocally refused to be intimidated. Seeing his own body used as a weapon of terror was devastating for Sheppard. Seeing their allies question Atlantis' ability to protect them was the absolute last straw. John had had enough. Time to be _proactive_, not just _reactive_.

"Ok, everyone, you all know what's been going on lately," said Sheppard. He and Woolsey had called a meeting of the City's senior civilian and military leadership to brainstorm on how to fight back. "The Wraith Worshippers have been basically kicking our butts for the last few months, and I'm sick of it. Frankly, we've been underestimating their capabilities. They have become more than the strike-and-disappear terrorists that we've been accustomed to, _a lot more_. Then there's the Wraith. They have cloaking technology now on their darts and may very well have it on their cruisers, too. And finally, there have been too goddamn many times that the Wraith Worshippers have gotten through security measures that we thought could keep them out."

"Mr. Woolsey and I want your input on what we can do, not just to counter this insurgency, but so we can get the drop on our enemy."

Woolsey spoke next. "We need to take advantage of every resource at our disposal. We have thousands of eyes and ears on dozens of planets that I think we can use more effectively. We also have the determination and creativity of each one of you. Any suggestions you have are welcome, even, as Sheppard said to me the other day, 'the wackiest ones.' (John smiled a little self-consciously at that.) We look forward to hearing from you."

oooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOO OOOoooooooooooooooo

"Unauthorized off-world activation!"

"Oh, god, now what?" Sheppard came out of Woolsey's office where they had been reviewing the latest intelligence on enemy activity. "What do we have, Chuck?" he asked warily.

"It's a video transmission, Sir, coded high priority, from…Oren Sidal."

"Who the heck is that?"

"Uh…," said Chuck, checking his read-outs, "He's the chief physician on Sedari."

"Ok, then, open a channel."

oooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooo

Jennifer Keller was making her report to Atlantis over a grainy video feed from Sedari. "It's as bad, if not worse, as Dr. Sidal told us, Mr. Woolsey. These children are seriously injured. At least eleven of them should be transported to the City for intensive treatment of their burns and respiratory distress. They desperately need antibiotics before infection sets in. The children – and there are some injured adults, too – require a sterile, well-equipped, hospital environment. The Sedari do not have the type of medical equipment or facilities to adequately care for these victims."

"I cannot believe, Doctor," Woolsey said sadly, "that anyone would set fire to a school with children _inside it_. Please tell Dr. Sidal that we will dispatch medical assistance to his people right away. I'll also be sending security teams to investigate this terrible case of arson."

Within a few hours, a total of 19 children and teenagers were being cared for in Atlantis' infirmary. One or both of their parents accompanied them, not wanting their children to be alone in a strange place. Several adults suffering from minor burns or smoke inhalation were also being treated. Dr. Keller expected that most patients would need to stay on Atlantis for a few weeks. Sheppard was personally heading a team to hunt down those responsible. When terror attacks targeted innocent kids…he'd seen that as a soldier on Earth, and he would not stand for it here in Pegasus.

After several days, Jennifer was pleased to see that her patients were doing quite well, physically and emotionally. Ronon, Teyla, Woolsey, and even McKay and John made efforts to visit the children and play with them. Jennifer often had to chastise Ronon for carrying happy little kids around on his shoulders, and more than once some adult had tripped over a ball in the hallway during an impromptu game of soccer.

oooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOO OOOoooooooooooooooooo

_**One evening, very late…**_

John tightened the laces on his sneakers. Ok, where did he want to run tonight? Maybe a route that would eventually take him outdoors. It had been very warm on Atlantis lately, but at 1:00 AM there would be a pleasant breeze coming in off the ocean. Sheppard strapped on his watch and wristband, and took off in the direction of the farthest pier.

He had been jogging for about 20 minutes when the klaxon went off – three short bursts, sounding over and over again. It was the alert that said the City was being breached.

Sheppard's hand automatically went to his right leg for a gun. Of course there was nothing there. Shit! Where was he? He'd been so zoned out during his run that he wasn't quite sure where he was. Taking a quick look around, he realized he was no longer in the residential section of the City, so there weren't a lot of doors to knock on for help. The alarm suddenly stopped blaring. Ducking into an alcove in the hallway, he tapped on his earpiece. "Ronon? Lorne? Woolsey? McKay? Teyla?!" Nothing. Crap. Had they already been taken? _**Who**_ had taken them? Sheppard had to get to the armory. He saw a transporter up ahead, got in and started to select a destination that would take him not directly to the armory but very nearby. If the bad guys had already made it there, John didn't want to walk in on them, unarmed. But, wait a minute, he didn't have to be unarmed…

Sheppard's request for security improvements had resulted in one particularly clever solution. Scattered across the City were several small, hidden caches of weaponry and other equipment. To access this gear, you didn't need the ATA gene, you didn't need an access code, you didn't need an old-fashioned key – and you didn't need a power source. All you needed were your fingers – press a certain non-descript spot on a non-descript wall and a panel would slide open. This had been Woolsey's idea – Woolsey, a compulsive reader of mystery novels. Hidden cubbyholes were a staple plot element in those kinds of books. Sheppard had loved how deviously low-tech his idea was. He had put Major Lorne in charge of identifying strategic locations, and instructed McKay to devise shielding for the sites that would block scans which could detect gunpowder and explosives. Only a handful of people knew about these secret places. They'd had to memorize where they were, and could not write down or record anything online about them. Now, the enemy might somehow find these stashes, but Sheppard and Woolsey had agreed that, if Atlantis were under attack, the benefits outweighed the risks.

Sheppard chose a transporter destination that brought him within several yards of a cache. It was the one closest to the Control Room, where he expected to find many, if not most, of the intruders. John opened the secret compartment and removed a Tac vest, a Wraith stunner, a gun which he strapped onto his right thigh, some knives, and a P-90. He slowly advanced, hugging the wall and alert to the slightest sound or movement. As he rounded a corner he startled an armed man. Before he could cry out, Sheppard took him down with the stunner and managed to catch him before he fell. He desperately hoped that no one had heard anything, or seen the brilliant blue flash of the gun. From up ahead came several voices. One of them was…it was Woolsey! Another belonged to McKay. Someone was speaking sharply to him, angrily, someone John knew, but who…? It…it was one of the parents from Sedari, what the heck were they…?

Sheppard never finished his thought. A Wraith stunner blast, at close range and hard into his chest, took him down in seconds.

He never saw that the person firing the gun was a kid.

oooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooo

Woolsey and McKay tried to stand up and see what the disturbance was, but were shoved back down into their chairs by the guards. They were both seated, in their bathrobes and pajamas, at one of the consoles on the upper level overlooking the Gate. Ronon and Lorne, also in nightclothes, were on the floor near them, bound hand and foot and propped up against a wall. Down below, several security personnel lay dead.

McKay's heart sank as he saw Sheppard being dragged into the room. He looked at Woolsey, Ronon and Lorne in dismay. They had all hoped that, somehow, John hadn't been caught, since he hadn't yet been corralled into the Control Room with the rest of them. The men carrying Sheppard threw him roughly to the floor. Then, pulling out some rope, they began to tie him up.

"Hey, c'mon, what do you need to do that for? He's out cold, he can't hurt anyone!" said McKay.

"He won't be unconscious forever, and he's much too dangerous when he's awake," said one of the men binding Sheppard.

"Well, then, at least let us take care of him, he may be badly injured," pleaded Woolsey.

Faced with two relatively weak-looking men in their pajamas, the guard laughed and said, "Do what you want. But it might be better if he stayed unconscious for a while. Vorek has plans for him." Vorek was the man who had been yelling at McKay earlier and who was clearly the leader. He was tall, with brown hair, blue eyes, and a muscular build difficult to detect under the 'ordinary villager from Sedari' clothes he had been wearing since arriving on Atlantis. Vorek was a Wraith Worshipper.

It took nearly 45 minutes for Sheppard to wake up, and he did that slowly. McKay and Woolsey had managed to get him upright and leaning into a corner, and Woolsey had rolled up his own bathrobe and put it behind John's head. It was the only comfort he could provide; the Sedari had refused to give them water or medicine; ironic, considering all the help that Atlantis had given to them.

McKay gave a tremendous sigh of relief as John's eyes opened and began to focus on him and Woolsey. "Sheppard?" Rodney said worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm awake, and Christ, I really hate stunners," John said weakly. He looked beyond McKay to see Ronon and Lorne against the opposite wall. "Are you guys alright?" They nodded back 'yes.' "Hey, McKay?' continued Sheppard, "how come we're tied up and you two aren't? Are you gettin' special treatment or something?" he joked.

"No, I think they believe that Richard and I are such a couple of weaklings that they'd be wasting rope."

"McKay, what the hell's going on?" asked John, now completely serious.

"They're Wraith Worshippers, Sheppard. All of them – all the parents of those injured kids from the fire. When we brought the families here, we just basically gave them a free pass to get into the City and…well…spy on us and learn whatever they wanted."

"The children - the older ones and the teenagers - are cultists, too," added Woolsey.

Before John could ask another question, the guards, realizing their prisoner was awake, turned their attention back to Sheppard. Pushing McKay and Woolsey out of the way, they yanked John to his feet and dragged him over to Vorek.

"Hey, I know you," John said to him. "You're the father of that little boy, the one with the third-degree burns, _the one whose life Dr. Keller saved_."

Sheppard got punched in the stomach for that. "Even if my son had died," replied Vorek, "his sacrifice would have been worth it. All of the children went to school knowing what was required of them."

"What?" John managed to straighten up from the blow so he could look Vorek in the eyes. "Am I hearing you right? You, the parents, set the fire? Did…uh…did those kids go to school that day knowing you were going to burn it down? Knowing they might die, and happy to do it, so your people could invade Atlantis?!"

"My daughter is the one who just shot you, Sheppard! All but the littlest children are true followers. When they are older, they will gladly make sacrifices as well."

"When they are older?!" yelled Ronon. "The most badly injured _were_ the little ones! They could have all died!" He got a kick to the ribs for his outburst.

McKay couldn't believe what he was hearing. He thought back to Sedrig, the inconspicuous, ordinary-looking guy, the Wraith Worshipper informant who had helped them find the Compound and Sheppard. He remembered thinking that 'maybe that's why sometimes terrorists were so effective – they were the kind of people you'd never suspect were capable of such violence.' Yeah. Like 11 year olds. And their supposedly loving parents.

"Enough talking," ordered Vorek. "Untie the Colonel's wrists – _leave his feet tied_ – and sit him down," he said to the guards, who did as they were ordered, then shoved John into a chair. "Now, Sheppard, I…."

"Wait, wait, just one more question, ok?! And don't punch me in the stomach this time?"

"What?!" snapped Vorek.

"The rest of the people who live in the City: what are you doing with them?"

"As we speak, my followers are gathering them into your 'cafeteria' and 'observation room' so that we can adequately guard them. It is also an efficient way of selecting persons to be killed, if you and your friends don't cooperate with my requests."

"Now, getting back to what I want, Sheppard. In a short time, more of our brethren on Sedari are going to dial your Gate. We know of your protective shield and that it must be lowered before anyone may pass through the wormhole. We also have learned -heh, heh, do you know how much children can learn when they are left to run around unmonitored? – that only certain persons, such as yourself, can lower it. So, when the Gate is activated in a few minutes, you will place your hand on this device, lower the shield, and let everyone through."

"And if I don't? Hey, I gotta ask that, they say it in all the TV shows and movies…"

Vorek leaned down very close to John and said, "I will place your loud-mouthed Satedan friend down below by the Gate. Then I will dial an address and watch him disintegrate as the unstable wormhole fills the room."

"Well, uh," said John slowly, "that would be a way to make me cooperate."

"Sheppard, do not do what this man asks! You can't!" cried out Ronon.

"Ronon, I can't let them kill you, big guy."

"Sheppard, are you crazy?" said McKay. "You can't let more of these people into the City!"

"Rodney, this is my decision to make, so _when I'm told to_, I'm going to _push that button_ over there, put my hand down and lower the shield." As he spoke, John stared at McKay with hard, fixed eyes.

"But Colonel," Woolsey started to say.

"No, no, it's ok, Richard," said Rodney. "I understand what John has to do."

In a few minutes, the Wraith Worshippers on Sedari began to dial in. Vorek suddenly wrenched Sheppard's left hand behind his back and pinned it there. "Do it now, Colonel. Place your hand on the screen – touch _**nothing**_ else – and lower the shield."

As Ronon, Lorne and the others watched in disbelief, John placed his hand on the biometric scanner. The shield descended, and Vorek's men began to come through. And then…

"Now, Rodney, now!" McKay thrust his hand under one of the consoles and activated a switch. Instantly, the shield closed. Just as it had happened years ago with the Genii soldiers, one by one the Sedari were disintegrated on the other side.

One of the guards dragged McKay away from the console by his neck. Vorek was incensed. He turned on Sheppard. "What have you done? Lower the shield again!"

"No."

"You!" Vorek ordered a guard, "Force his hand upon the device."

"It's not gonna work, Vorek," said John as his hand was grabbed. And it didn't. "You see, McKay – the guy you decided _not_ to tie up, by the way – just pushed a button that has completely over-ridden the hand-print system on the computer. The only way to lower the shield again is for me to enter a special access code. No code, no Gate."

"I will kill your friends!"

"Go ahead."

Vorek looked at the others. They were as quietly defiant as Sheppard.

"No, no, NO!" screamed Vorek. Then he grabbed a rifle and swung it at Sheppard, over and over again…

_**TBC…**_


	10. Ch 10 -- Tell Me You've Got a Plan?

**It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer**

**Chapter 10**

**Tell Me You've Got a Plan…?**

"Stop it, stop it, oh, my god," cried Woolsey in vain. McKay was yelling, too, and struggling against the guard who was nearly strangling him. Still tied up on the floor, Ronon and Lorne were cursing at their own helplessness.

Sheppard was slumped across the console, bleeding and semi-conscious. Vorek had struck him hard against the side of the head with the rifle butt. Since he was standing behind the chair, he had caught John completely off-guard with the first blow. As Vorek swung at him a second time, Sheppard regained some of his senses and tried to grab the rifle. Vorek, though, strengthened by his fury, smashed away his hands and hit him hard on the shoulder. A third blow, again to John's head, knocked him to the floor. Vorek raised the weapon to strike a fourth time at a badly injured Sheppard who couldn't move out of the way – his ankles were still bound.

It was then that Vorek's own men lunged at him and pulled him back. "Enough, Vorek, enough! We need him alive!"

Vorek heard them. Breathing heavily, he stepped away from John and silently handed the rifle to one of the guards. Woolsey, heedless of any danger to himself, went frantically over to Sheppard. The younger man's face was covered in blood. "I need something to stop the bleeding…please!" But once again his request for medical aid was ignored. So, he took off his pajama shirt and pressed it against Sheppard's head.

Vorek, staring at Woolsey and Sheppard, smiled sinisterly. "Get him on his feet and find a strong chair to tie him to," he ordered.

Vorek's men brought in a sturdy-looking chair from one of the offices. John was painfully bound with his arms tight behind his back and his ankles secured to the chair legs. Still woozy, his head lolled against his chest.

As his men worked on Sheppard, Vorek dug through a large canvas bag. From it he withdrew a pair of leather gloves and a clear-glass jar filled with a tan, pasty substance. From his hip he unsheathed a small but very sharp knife.

Vorek went to stand in front of his prisoner to see if he'd come around. Unfortunately, he had. Vorek took his knife, grabbed John's t-shirt, and slit it open from top to bottom. Then, he began to make long, shallow cuts across Sheppard's chest and abdomen.

"Hey…uh…I really liked that shirt, ya know. Why'd you have to ruin it?!" gasped John, in terrible pain but always ready with a snappy come-back.

"Oh, god, please stop hurting him!" begged McKay. The guard restraining him suddenly pushed him into a chair. "Be quiet – all of you!" he threatened the four men, "or you will suffer along with your Colonel."

Vorek continued to score John's torso with cut after cut. Not once looking up from his gruesome task, he taunted, "Sheppard, I'm surprised how easy it was for us to neutralize your forces and take Atlantis."

"Uh, we haven't given up yet, you know," challenged John through gritted teeth. Blood was trickling rapidly from his chest and stomach onto his pants, onto the floor.

Vorek chuckled and ignored him. "Such a supposedly clever and skilled military leader as you should have anticipated that we might try something so underhanded. It's a basic tenet of waging war: identify and exploit the weaknesses of your enemy! In your case, we took advantage of the compassion of your physicians, of your belief in the innocence of children and families, of your foolish notion that they could not possibly be part of the violence caused by Wraith Worshippers. When you were imprisoned at our Compound, Colonel, you were surprised by what they did to you, _with_ you, were you not? You're amazed, aren't you, by how we continue to use your physical attributes as instruments of death, as a way to invade your facilities, steal your technology? In the last several months, we have become more than you can imagine."

"You know, I could just tell my men to shoot a half-dozen random hostages to make you talk. Or, I could easily get the code from one of your 'soft' friends over there – I'm sure they know it, considering they are leaders in your City. We could try and break into your computer system – we _are_ quite capable – we are not the simple townsfolk that you believe us to be. But right now, it will be much more enjoyable to torture you."

"Hey, Vorek, before you start having fun, can I ask you something?" Sheppard asked, panting against the pain. He knew that soon he might be too badly hurt to fight. Anything Vorek revealed now could help his friends save their lives, and the City.

Vorek glowered at him. Sheppard decided to ask his questions anyways. "Yeah, I've been a _little bit_ impressed by you guys lately. Tell me, how'd you do it? I'm thinkin' maybe you've had a little help? Maybe from some, uh, visitors…really smart, not too talkative, weird eyes…don't look like they're from around here…?" Over the past few months, John had come to suspect that Atlantis might not be the sole focus of attention for the Azeron. Vorek's tirade just now was firming up that belief.

The flicker of anger and surprise in his captor's eyes, and a sudden, very deep cut to John's abdomen, proved his theory _was_ correct.

Vorek smiled at his gory handiwork, and put down the knife. Then, he pulled over one of the small, wheeled desk chairs and sat uncomfortably close to Sheppard. He put on the gloves, unscrewed the lid on the jar, and smeared some of the oily paste onto his fingers. John eyed his actions with dread.

"There is a root plant on Sedari called a hika, Colonel. When mashed up and applied to open wounds, or even to the slightest scratch, it is, well, see for yourself…" Vorek liberally rubbed the paste across John's blood-soaked chest, digging his fingers deep into each and every cut. John did his best to stifle a scream as an agonizing burn radiated through him.

"Will you tell me the access code now?" asked Vorek.

"Well…uh…I'd like to, but, ah…I'm real bad with numbers…ahhh!" John moaned, as Vorek applied more pressure to his ravaged skin.

"I have a great deal of time to do this, Sheppard, and you have a lot more flesh for me to injure. _Tell me the code to lower the shield_…"

John was silent except for his ragged breathing. Vorek grinned. "I am actually glad you are so stubborn," he said. Then he reached up and tore away what remained of Sheppard's shirt.

ooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOoooo oooooooo

About 30 minutes later, Vorek stopped the torture, but only because his prisoner had blessedly passed out. He also relented and allowed McKay and Woolsey to take care of him, if only with water and a blood-stained pajama top. It amused him to see them try.

McKay wiped the blood out of John's eyes. The bleeding from his head wounds had nearly stopped. He thought about washing off the toxic paste that coated his chest, but was afraid he would only make things worse. Woolsey tipped a glass of water against John's lips, trying to wake him up. Vorek might start cutting him again any time now; they needed to get him conscious and talking, and try to figure out some kind of plan.

After a few minutes, Sheppard came to. McKay spoke to him, quietly and fast.

"John, we can't let them keep hurting you. What…what if we did lower the shield…we could still find a way to stop them."

"No way," mumbled Sheppard. "I…I just gotta keep stalling…don't want 'em…to go after you guys…and, uh, Teyla…she can help us…she's out there, right?"

"I hope so. When they started taking over…they knew where everyone's quarters were, and they didn't find her. We said she went to the mainland. I think they bought it."

"Great. But, uh…if she can't get here…McKay, uh…drop the shirt on my…my right shoe."

"What?"

"Jackknife…in my shoe…Ronon…Lorne, they can…" John could hardly talk, the pain was so bad.

He _always_ had a plan, didn't he! McKay let the shirt fall and conceal John's foot. He dug the knife out of Sheppard's sneaker, palmed it and slipped it into his bathrobe pocket. And just in time, too. Vorek was done indulging them. He turned his attention once more to Sheppard – and the skin on his back.

ooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOO OOoooooooooooooooo

_**A short time earlier….**_

Teyla was outdoors, seeking the pleasant weather just as John had, when the attack began. Torren had been uncharacteristically fussy all day and into the evening. Teyla couldn't figure out why – was he sick, cutting a tooth, or just wanting to irritate his mother? He had refused to settle down no matter what she tried. In an effort to soothe him and herself, she had bundled him up and gone for a walk. It was mild and peaceful outside, and perhaps the sound of lapping waves would send the baby off to sleep.

After a while, Torren _was_ very sound asleep, so Teyla felt it was safe to head back to their rooms, where she could finally rest, too. She had been back indoors for only a few minutes when she heard the gunfire. Moments later the alarm pierced the air. The noise woke up Torren, who began crying, loudly. For a split second, Teyla froze. What should she do? She had to help her friends, but…what about her son? She was near her quarters, but she had no idea how many intruders there were, or what parts of the City they had already taken. She considered hiding, but Torren's cries were approaching the shrieking stage; someone might have already heard him. She came to the painful realization that finding somewhere safe for the baby _outside_ was her only option. Since the weather was comfortable, she felt sure he would be alright. She had dressed him warmly against the ocean breeze, and had also wrapped him in a little blanket that was a gift from Jennifer. Teyla quietly crept onto a balcony and cuddled Torren to stop his crying. It took nearly 20 minutes to do so. She set the little boy down in a spot out of the wind and made softer by her folded-up jacket. Then, she stepped back inside. It broke her heart – and terrified her – to leave him, but Teyla had no other choice.

She stealthily made her way down the corridor. She was not able to reach Sheppard or anyone else through her earpiece – perhaps the internal communications system had been disabled. Or the others had been captured. Shouts and sporadic gunfire were still echoing throughout the City; whatever was happening, it sounded like the enemy was attacking in large numbers. Teyla would have to move quickly – and carefully – if she hoped to stop them.

As she left, she didn't see the flash of light that suddenly illuminated the balcony as a wormhole opened, or hear Torren's tiny cry as a man with brilliant violet eyes carried him away.

ooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOooooooooooooooooooo

Vorek and his men were so intent on hurting Sheppard that they weren't paying much attention to what their other prisoners were up to. McKay began drifting away over towards the wall. He sat quietly on the floor and ever so carefully slid the knife into Ronon's bound hands. Woolsey, meanwhile, had retrieved his bathrobe. Wearing it quite loosely, he stood in front of Ronon, hoping to keep the guards from seeing him while he worked to cut the rope.

As Vorek covered his back with more of the horrible paste, Sheppard cried out in agony. "C'mon, you two, hurry up!" pleaded McKay.

"Hold on, Doc," whispered Lorne. "Almost got it – yeah!" Ronon and Lorne's hands were free. Woolsey then made the next move. Although most of Vorek's men were watching Sheppard, one guard remained too close for comfort near Ronon and Lorne. They needed a distraction so they could untie their feet, so Woolsey caused one.

"Alright, enough…uh, I'll give you the code, just stop torturing him, please!" said Richard. As he'd hoped, Vorek and the guards – all of them – focused on him. It was a fatal error. In those few seconds, Ronon and Lorne sliced the rope off their ankles and got up _fast_. Ronon broke the neck of one guard, then another. The Major killed two more, disarmed them and then shoved a stunner into the hands of a startled McKay. They were going to make it…!

Woolsey's cry stopped them in their tracks. To their horror, Vorek had him around the neck. "Put the weapons on the ground. Now," he ordered. He tightened his grip. "Now!" Ronon and Lorne knew they had to give up. Damn it! But as they started to lower their guns, Woolsey surprised them and, most certainly, Vorek. In his carelessness, the cultist had set down his knife. Richard, seeing it out of the corner of his eye on the console, grabbed it and plunged the blade deep into the Wraith Worshiper's thigh. Vorek yelped in pain and released his grip on Woolsey's neck. Ronon, all 6' 4" and 225 lbs. of him, throttled Vorek by _his_ own neck and lifted him in the air. "Where are the rest of your men? Tell me or I will kill you. You brag about the willingness of your followers to die for the cause, but do _you_ really want to die?" Vorek was silent.

Lorne stepped in. "We don't have time to interrogate him, Ronon. We're too exposed here and I think taking him along would slow us down. As much as I want to kill Vorek, too, he may have value later. Stun him, tie him up and gag him – _very tightly_ – and stash him somewhere," the Major ordered. He then rushed over to Sheppard.

"Colonel? Colonel Sheppard? C'mon, Sir, wake up, we gotta get out of here," said Lorne. He cut his commanding officer free. John was barely conscious. The amount of blood covering his body was frightening. Ronon came over and knelt beside him. "C'mon, buddy, I'll carry you," he said. Sheppard moaned loudly as Ronon placed him, as gently as possible, over his shoulder. Then, with Lorne on point, the group fled the Control Room.

And promptly ran into Teyla. "Quickly, quickly, this way!" she said. "I have found a place where we can hide." She was wearing a Tac vest and carrying several guns.

"Well, my idea for hiding weapons has certainly come in handy," said Woolsey with a relieved smile.

"Don't get overconfident, Sir," said Lorne. "There's five of us, six if we can get Colonel Sheppard on his feet, and who knows how many of them."

"Check…check where everybody is…" whispered Sheppard.

"What? Ronon, lay him down," McKay said. "John, what do you mean?"

"Vorek," John said weakly, his head supported by Teyla, "…said our people…they're in the mess hall and the…the…" His voice gave out.

McKay finished for him. "He rounded them all up in the cafeteria and the observation room! So that means…we do a life sign scan of the entire City, so anybody outside of those areas – except for us, obviously – is probably a Wraith Worshipper! Good thinking, Sheppard!"

But John didn't hear him. He was unconscious again.

Lorne spoke up. "Alright, everybody. We gotta keep moving. Let's get some medical supplies for the Colonel, and then find somewhere to hunker down and plan a way to fight back!"

_**TBC…One more chapter and this will be finished. Please review! **_


	11. Chapter 11 -- On the Run

**It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer**

**Chapter 11**

**On the Run**

Lorne and the others moved fast. With nearly everyone in the City held hostage, it was eerily quiet; the slightest sound stood out. They feared they were drawing fatal attention to themselves with every footstep. They almost did. One Wraith Worshipper intercepted them just outside the Control Room. McKay, surprisingly, was the first to fire. As the man began to cry out, he brought him down with the stunner. Ronon, burdened by carrying Sheppard, still managed to use Vorek's rifle, one-handed, to hit the man in the head and kill him. "Ronon!" exclaimed McKay, shocked at the violence. "What do you want me to do, McKay, keep him alive?" Ronon said. "And you know I can't risk firing a gun, someone will hear it." He was right, of course.

While Lorne searched the cultist's body for weapons and anything else of value, McKay paced nervously. "He yelled, you saw it, I didn't fire in time. Do you think somebody heard him?"

"I don't know, Doc. But today my motto is 'fight now, worry later,' so find a place in your bathrobe for this knife…" he handed McKay a scary-looking switchblade, "and next time, well, shoot faster!" Unfortunately, Lorne got his motto backwards. As McKay was slipping the knife into his pocket, Lorne said "Oh, shit."

"What is it now?" said Ronon. On his shoulder, Sheppard gave a soft moan of pain; they couldn't afford these delays.

"Look," said Lorne. From the cultist's belt he took…an LSD.

"Ok…," said Woolsey, looking puzzled. "So they have one. So it takes away some of our advantage. What's the problem?"

"Richard, don't you know?…you need the ATA gene to operate these," said Rodney. "Oh, god, they isolated Sheppard's gene and this guy has it and…"

"And who knows how many others do. Christ!" said Lorne in frustration. "Alright, look," he continued, "As far as we know, they haven't figured out – _yet_ – that we've escaped, so that buys us some time. Let's high tail it to Teyla's hiding place, get the Colonel taken care of, and do some _quick_ strategizing. We can't stay in one place too long."

The group kept going, alert to more intruders. The children might be the hardest to avoid, being so small and quiet. If they were armed, they could be mistaken for one of the adults, and then…no one wanted to harm any of the kids. That would be a tragedy. Vorek's daughter – and her stunner – seemed to have disappeared, at least for now. McKay was worried about something else, though.

"Major, Major, hold up a sec," McKay said, grabbing Lorne's arm.

"What's the matter, McKay? We really need to get out of sight."

"Yeah, but first I need a computer, or better yet, a tablet. I need to disable the subspace communications system."

"Why?" asked Lorne.

"So they can't transmit our coordinates to the Wraith. We've disabled the Gate – for the time being. Vorek and his people need help; if they can't get it through the Gate, then they're gonna get it from the Wraith."

"Shit, you're right. Uh….here we go." Lorne indicated a small office up ahead. "Alright, Doc, get in there and do what you need – fast. I'm gonna do a city-wide scan and pinpoint the Wraith Worshippers' positions."

oooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOo oooooooooooooo

Sheppard was aware of lying down, and on something mercifully soft. They weren't moving anymore, which was good. Sounds came drifting in his direction, penetrating the haze of pain then fading away. Someone was talking to him, wanting him to open his eyes. But he didn't want to wake up. If he did, he'd _really_ feel the pain. When a guy was unconscious things wouldn't hurt, that's the way it worked. And, god, it hurt so much...

"Yes, Colonel, I know it hurts…" John opened his eyes; was he thinking out loud? Lorne was leaning over him. "Sir, just hang in there. We found somewhere safe to hide for a while. Teyla and McKay found an auxiliary medical supply closet. Remember, they keep one not too far from the Control room, in case of accidents or attacks. They got some bandages, some water, some lidocaine spray and…"

"Lidocaine…that's the stuff that…that numbs, right?" Sheppard asked. His grogginess was starting to clear.

"Yes, Sir, it does," said Lorne, relieved that his CO was becoming alert. "We're going to wash that pasty stuff off of your skin and then we'll apply the spray…

"_Lots_ of it, OK? Just feel free to use up whatever ya got, Major, go crazy…"

"Yes, Sir, we will," replied Lorne, grinning. Turning to Teyla, he said, "Patch him up the best you can, OK? And do it fast; we can't stay here too long."

Lorne and his team were holed up in a small storage room one level up and a few corridors away from the Control Room. They didn't want to get too far away from the Gate, but at the same time they needed somewhere safe to regroup. Rodney had successfully disabled the subspace communications system. He'd also managed to find a tablet; they'd need one if they wanted to access any other City systems while on the run. The group had stopped at the hidden cache that Teyla had already raided, and took all the gear – including a couple of LSDs – and guns that were left. It wasn't much, though. As they made their way through the City they might be able to get to other caches. But right now, according to the LSD, there were too many intruders between them and more weapons. The room they were in, while cramped, was big enough to make Sheppard comfortable and, hopefully, get him into fighting shape again. They needed all the manpower they could get.

"Rodney, please come here and help John sit up." McKay knelt down by Sheppard and carefully held him upright, which wasn't easy to do – much of the skin on his upper torso had been mutilated by Vorek's knife.

"Uh…ahhh!" gasped John as Teyla began wiping off the hika paste.

"Oh, I'm sorry, John, but I must remove as much of this toxic plant as possible, or the lidocaine will not work effectively. I'll try to be gentler."

After a few minutes, Teyla was done washing Sheppard's terribly injured skin. John was holding up the best he could, but it was so, so painful. Things got much better when they applied the spray. Teyla wanted to wrap his torso in bandages, but decided against it; better to keep his wounds uncovered so they could apply more lidocaine as needed. McKay had found a roomy scrub shirt and helped Sheppard put it on.

"Thanks, McKay, Teyla. Hey, Lorne?" John said, trying to focus on something besides his aching body. "What does it look like out there? How many are we up against?"

"The scan shows that 41 people – not including us – are in parts of the City other than the mess hall or the observation room."

"Damn," said Sheppard. He took a deep breath to steady himself. Despite Teyla's careful touch, his skin was on fire. "Five, well, 5 ½ of us versus all of them. I'd say we have a decent chance anyways, but the problem is…those kids. We can't let them get hurt, but they could be armed, like Vorek's daughter."

"Sir, it might not be as many as 41. There were Sedari adults and children that were still being cared for in the Infirmary, who might not be in very good shape. They make up some of those 41 people. There may be medical staff being held hostage, so they'd be part of that figure, too."

"Good point, Major. We need to scout the Infirmary." Sheppard made a motion like he was going to get up.

"Uh, no you don't, Colonel," warned Woolsey. "Major Lorne and Ronon are perfectly capable of checking out the Infirmary. Those cuts still need tending. And don't forget the blows to your head – you are probably suffering from a serious concussion."

"Yeah, well, it wouldn't be the first one." But Sheppard was smart enough to reconsider what he wanted to do. "Uh, Lorne, Ronon, see what you can learn. If you have to engage them…just be careful, OK? If we don't hear from you in…10 minutes, we're coming after you."

"We're good, Sheppard. No worries," said Ronon. Then and he Lorne slowly opened the door to the storage room, gave the hallway a quick scan, and took off.

ooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoo oooooooooo

As they approached the Infirmary, Lorne checked the LSD. Eleven people were in the room. He had no idea how many medical staff might be on duty. He made an educated guess and figured that since the attack had occurred in the middle of the night, less than half were probably Atlantis personnel.

Lorne and Ronon each scoped out a separate entrance. Inside the room were Dr. Keller, Dr. Chen, and a nurse. Five Sedari parents, men and women, were with them, heavily armed. Three small Sedari children were in bed and awake, undoubtedly because of the noise when the attack began.

Lorne didn't consider the children a threat; they were some of the littlest ones and were still suffering from serious burns. The adults, though…whatever injuries they might have weren't bothering them. Each had a stunner and rifle. Lorne could see that some of them also had LSDs attached to their belts. They were keeping a close eye on the medical staff as well as all the entrances to the infirmary. Lorne was relieved to see that Dr. Keller and her colleagues seemed alright; McKay would be happy to hear that.

He wouldn't be happy about what happened next, though. As Ronon was peeking into the room from the door he was covering, one of those wide-awake, should-have-been-asleep-at-that-hour kids saw him.

"Mama," the little boy cried out, "It's that nice man, the one who gives us rides on his shoulders. Can we do that now, Mama, please?" He waved at where Ronon was trying to hide.

His mother immediately zeroed in on him. "Lantean!" she yelled, "Get him! Check the other doors!" She fired several rounds at Ronon, barely missing. The children started to cry. As bullets pinged off of glass and metal, Lorne and Ronon tore down the hallway. "Teyla!" hissed Lorne into his earpiece, "we've been spotted. Get the hell out of there and go to…" he had to speak carefully; the cultists could be monitoring their frequency, "…go to Torren's playroom." The playroom was a small, unused office that John and some of the others had converted into a safe place for the baby, filled with the many toys that the only child in Atlantis was bound to accumulate. It meant going to the residential area of the City; they'd have to find a transporter, and fast.

In the store room, Teyla turned to her friends. "Lorne and Ronon are under attack. We must go to meet them in Torren's playroom. John, can you walk?"

"Do I have any choice? Just give me a couple of guns and let's go."

ooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOoooooooooooooooo

"Find them! Find them, now!" roared Vorek. Once the Lanteans' escape had been exposed, several cultists had gone to the Control room and found their leader, still securely bound, groggy from the stunner, and hidden deep inside a closet.

"I don't care about the Satedan or the soldier; do what you want with them. But I want Sheppard, McKay, and the one called Woolsey alive. This time, one of them will lower that shield, if I have to kill half the people in this City."

Sheppard and the others made it safely to the rendezvous point. John wasn't looking that well, though. Blood was starting to seep through his shirt, and he was pale and sweating. As soon as they stopped, he asked Teyla for more lidocaine and some water, and sat down tiredly.

"Now what?" asked McKay. "This place is gonna be safe for about two seconds, you know, and then they'll find us."

"Now…" said Sheppard, checking his LSD, "this becomes a game of cat and mouse. We have LSDs, they have LSDs, so no one's sneaking up on anybody. We're armed, they're much better armed. If we could get to another cache, or the armory, or even the Jumper Bay, we could…but, no, they're all over the place. Damn it!"

Woolsey was looking over John's shoulder at the city map on the LSD. "Well, they're not everywhere, Colonel. Those areas there..." he pointed at some flooded sections of Atlantis, "have no blips in them."

"What are you getting at, Richard?"

"Well, I'm not a soldier, but I am a bit of a strategist." At Sheppard's curious look he added, "Chess, John, chess. It's basically all about maneuvering your pieces, your 'men', to capture your opponent's 'men.' Part of the fun of chess is implementing devious strategies to lure your opponent's pieces deep into your territory without him realizing it, until it's too late."

"And then you open fire and kill them," said Ronon.

"Well, uh, in a _very figurative_ manner of speaking, yes," said Woolsey, briefly envisioning his chess board being blown to bits.

"I see your point, Mr. Woolsey. Lure the Wraith Worshippers into, for them, a very unfamiliar part of the City, by allowing them to track us on their LSDs. But what do we do once we are all there? They have many more weapons than we do."

"Weapons aren't always guns and knives, Teyla," said John, a grin slowly spreading across his handsome face. "Rodney, how much power is running through those sections?"

"Hold on, let me check…" said McKay, consulting his tablet. "Ok, it looks like this one, and this one, and this one…" he jabbed his finger on the map, "uh…these places have a fair amount of power running through them. The restoration of those areas has been slow, though; there's still a lot of water down there."

"Just what I wanted to hear, McKay," said Sheppard, his grin now full-blown. "C'mon, guys, we've got some chess pieces to capture."

ooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOooooooooooooooo

"Vorek, they're moving." One of Vorek's guards brought over his LSD. Six blips were definitely making their way, and rapidly, through the City, but well in the opposite direction of his men. Why?

"What is the part of the City that they are heading towards?"

"It is an unoccupied area of Atlantis, apparently damaged by storms and other disasters. No one lives in those sections."

"So why are they going there?"

"I don't know. Perhaps there are…weapons stored there? Supplies? It _would_ make sense to hide resources in a place your enemy would not suspect anything to be, in a place that is in disrepair and vacant."

"Alright, do this: Our force is now made up of…" Vorek counted to himself, "thirty adults and five older children. Leave eight men – four to each area – guarding the citizens we are holding. Deploy another three to monitor the Gate room and keep three in the Infirmary. Also, since this may be a complicated trap, I do not want the five children involved in this hunt. I will remain in the Gate room. Take the remaining force – fifteen men by my count – and capture Sheppard."

oooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOO OOOooooooooooooooooo

_**A short time later, in a flooded part of the City…**_

"OK, John, I've set it up the way you wanted."

"Great. Now we wait."

"Sheppard, how did you come up with this idea?" asked McKay.

"Well, just call it a little payback for what a certain doctor did to me in the Compound. Remember those electrodes he implanted all over me? Well, they packed one hell of a shock. The current that you've rigged to run through the watery areas where we hope to lure Vorek and his men will be enough to kill them, I hope."

"Sir, what about the kids? If Vorek brings them along…?" said Lorne worriedly.

"I thought about that. I think that Vorek will leave them out of this. He's not stupid; he knows we're up to something in the emptiest, most isolated, most wrecked part of the City."

"Oh, you think he's found compassion for the children all of a sudden?" asked Woolsey.

"No, I think he wants his best resources going after us. The kids are his weakest link. C'mon, Vorek is the one that ordered a school full of their own children burned down. He doesn't care about these kids as kids; they're just followers, and he needs his best ones going after us."

oooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOooooooooooooooo

It was dark and dank where Sheppard and his friends had laid their trap. Lorne was carefully monitoring his LSD.

"Got 'em, Colonel," he whispered. "Fifteen people heading this way. Uh…" he peered at the display in the dim light of the ruined hallway, "Uh, they're breaking up into two groups, Sir."

"I expected they would, Major. That's why McKay set things up in a couple places."

"Uh, not that I don't trust your expertise, Dr. McKay," asked Woolsey, "but are you _quite certain_ that we will be safe?"

"Trust me, we'll be fine. We're high and dry where _we_ are. Plus, I can turn the current off remotely with my tablet. And if that doesn't work, there's a maintenance shaft we can crawl through. Radek and his team found it one time. It's only about 17 yards; it brings you out into another corridor that's waterlogged, but safe."

Sheppard suddenly signaled everyone to be quiet. "Both groups…they're practically on top of us," he whispered. "McKay, get ready."

After what seemed like an eternity, they heard the sound of sloshing water. "Now, Rodney!" ordered John. An instant later, the air was filled with shrieks and the pungent scents of ozone and electrocuted flesh as Vorek's men were killed.

"Back, back!" they heard a Wraith Worshipper order; apparently not everyone had stepped in the water. But Sheppard had accomplished his goal – cut down Vorek's men and level the playing field a bit.

The team slowly made their way out. According to the LSDs, the Wraith Worshippers had smartly made a strategic retreat.

"Good work, McKay!" said Sheppard, clapping Rodney on the back. "We didn't get all of them, but we've bought ourselves some time. Now we have to…"

"Colonel Sheppard, can you hear me?" The group was startled as Vorek's voice suddenly came booming across the City's PA system.

"What's going on…?" said McKay.

"Colonel Sheppard, I hope you can hear me and this as well?"

Torren's cries echoed through the corridor.

"Oh, no!" cried Teyla.

"Sheppard, you and your men will surrender immediately or this child will die. And if you think I will not kill an infant…we are willing to sacrifice our own children, Colonel, so why would we hesitate to kill the child of our enemy?"

_**TBC…So, I miscalculated a bit. This isn't the last chapter. The next one WILL BE, I promise. Stay tuned for Chapter 12 this weekend (March 2 or 3).**_


	12. Chapter 12 -- Where Do We Go From Here?

**It's Not Easy being an Intergalactic Space Explorer**

**Chapter 12**

**Where Do We Go from Here?**

[Author's note – No children are hurt in any way in this chapter]

The team stood in the cold, damp corridor, silent and in shock. Vorek had turned the tables on them once again. "I should not have left him where I did," said Teyla in disbelief. "I could have found a better spot…why didn't I…?" She was uncharacteristically overcome with emotion and self-recrimination.

Sheppard looked at Teyla in dismay. The pain and fear he saw in her eyes were gut-wrenching. "Don't do that, Teyla, don't you beat yourself up. You had to make a split second decision; you did the best you could. They must have…they must have decided to patrol outside; maybe they thought people were hiding there, or their LSDs detected him..." Whatever the reason, it was done. John sighed, stepped away from his friends, and tapped his earpiece.

"You've got a deal, Vorek. We give up. Now, don't you dare hurt that little boy, or I swear…!"

"You're in no position to demand anything, Colonel, but for the moment, you have my promise that the child will not be harmed."

"Now, throw all of your weapons and other equipment into the water and come out. My men are _very_ _eager_ to see you again." Vorek's words dripped with malice…and anticipation.

John ordered his friends to comply. He then looked down the long corridor at his enemy, darkly silhouetted against the pale blue light that illuminated the City's empty, damaged places. With a grunt of disgust, he threw his guns down and surrendered.

ooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooo oo

The Wraith Worshippers, flush with victory, dragged Sheppard and the others away. They took no chances this time. As each Lantean emerged they were forced to their knees, bound and gagged. Sheppard got the worst of it; a vicious kick to his side sent him collapsing into the wet muck. The cultists knew that Teyla was Torren's mother. They taunted her, tormented her by saying how badly she had failed her son. Helpless, she could do nothing but let her anger grow, and with it her determination to fight.

Her friends were doing the same.

Soon they were back to where it had all began – the Control room. Vorek had Torren. He was bouncing the baby on his lap in a sick charade of affection. As Teyla started to struggle, Vorek motioned to his men to cut her free. "I am not a monster, Teyla. A child should be with its mother," he sneered. Teyla snatched the baby from him as fast as she could, as if every second in the man's grasp contaminated him with disease. "I was surprised at your poor choice of a hiding place, Athosian. You should have expected that we would search the Jumpers, one by one."

Teyla stood frozen in place. "What? But I did not…how did...?" She stopped talking as John gave her a piercing stare. He was gagged, but he didn't need to be able to verbalize what all his friends, at that moment, knew must be true: their purple-eyed friends had inexplicably and deliberately put Torren in harm's way. John seethed with anger. He didn't know who was more deserving of his fury – the cultists or the Azeron.

He didn't have time to think about it. Sheppard was slammed into the chair to which he had been tied when Vorek was torturing him. Blood stained the upholstery. Smears had been tracked by boots across the floor. Next to him was the computer which would accept John's access code and lower the shield.

"I'll waste no time…or words on you, Sheppard," said Vorek harshly. "While you were gone, I sent one man through the Gate to Sedaris, to gather reinforcements. He has been dialing Atlantis every ten minutes. They will be doing that again in…three. This time, when he does, you will lower that shield. No deception, no stalling. Only absolute cooperation."

John was tied to the chair and remained gagged. His right arm was kept free, but was held in the bone-crushing grip of a guard. As promised, the Gate activated within three minutes. Taking a long, apologetic look at his friends, Sheppard typed in the access code, let the guard place his hand on the scanner, and opened the doors of Atlantis to the Wraith Worshippers.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo ooooooooooo

Ronon was pacing like a wild animal. He and Lorne were imprisoned in one of the City's holding cells. They should have been dead, but John had convinced Vorek to keep them alive a little while longer. He had suggested that they be forced to see the Wraith triumphantly take over Atlantis before they were executed. Vorek had agreed; he knew Sheppard was blatantly playing to his ego in order to keep his friends safe, and he loved it.

Back in the Control room, McKay was freed from his bonds. Vorek ordered him to transmit the gate address and space coordinates of Atlantis to the Wraith, using the subspace communications array – the system that Rodney had disabled hours earlier.

The cult leader boasted to his prisoners that soon he would be standing in their Gate room, personally presenting the greatest prize of all to his masters. "By your own actions, Dr. McKay - and because of your failures, Sheppard - the location of Atlantis will be sent to every corner of the galaxy. Soon, the sky above your City will be darkened by countless Wraith ships."

John noted with significant interest that, just as the doctor in the Compound had, Vorek suffered from a huge – and potentially fatal – ego. If they were lucky, it would lead him to make an equally fatal mistake. The Gate worked now - a few Sedari could just go through it and bring the Wraith here that way. But, no, that wouldn't be dramatic enough for Vorek. He was in control of the situation, of this unprecedented impending victory. His masters would come to _him_, in wave after wave, drawn by the signal from Atlantis.

McKay went to sit down at the console and then stopped.

"What is the delay, Doctor? Do what you are told!" said Vorek.

Rodney couldn't. He looked around at his friends. "John, Richard, Teyla...I…I can't do this! Once this signal goes out…the Wraith could be here in minutes! Teyla, I'm so sorry, I know that the baby…that they'll…but I can't…I can't help them!" He turned to Vorek. "I sabotaged this system earlier, but I won't fix it now. Figure it out for yourselves; I'm sure you're smart enough. Or, just end all of this melodrama and go through the Gate! We're probably doomed anyways, but I won't help you." McKay then sat down. Oh, god, he thought, what had he just done!?

Vorek stood there, furious. No one dared speak. It was Teyla who finally did.

She spoke quietly but with confidence. "Don't signal the Wraith, Rodney. You are correct. The Wraith cannot know where we are, and you cannot help Vorek tell them...whatever the cost."

Everyone stared at her, stunned. But no one more so than Vorek.

"You are willing to sacrifice your own child?"

"If I have to," said Teyla.

At that, John began to struggle against the ropes and cry out through his gag. Vorek motioned for him to be released.

"Teyla, I won't let you do this!" Turning to Vorek, John said, "I'll take you up in a Jumper. I know you have the Ancient gene. I'll teach you to fly the ship and how to signal the Wraith. That way, they can make a great, big entrance over the planet, just like you want them to."

"Ah…interesting. The mother is willing to lose the child, but not you."

"I'm not like you, Vorek. I don't sacrifice children for a cause."

McKay, Teyla and Woolsey couldn't believe what they were hearing. As the guards moved to grab Sheppard, McKay stepped in the way.

"One minute, just give us a minute!" He pulled John aside. "Sheppard, if you do this…we can't win this time, not against an entire City full of Wraith…not unless…unless you want us to trigger the self-destruct."

"Rodney, I can't let Torren die."

"You…you may have to…" said Teyla painfully.

"If you take that Jumper out, Colonel," began Woolsey...

"…then maybe I can find a way to stop him up there, and you guys can still find a way to fight down here" finished John.

Sheppard was then taken away.

oooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooo ooooooooooo

Ronon and Lorne sat in their cell, desperate for news of their friends. At the sound of the door whooshing open, they got to their feet. Surprisingly, Vorek's daughter and a teenage boy came into the room. More surprising was when they raised their stunners at the guards and shot them.

The children lowered the force field. They gathered up the stunners and rifles from the unconscious men and handed them to Ronon and Lorne.

"What's going on…why are you doing this?" asked Lorne.

Vorek's daughter spoke. "We…we heard Father's words…and his…heartlessness towards the baby. We have always been obedient to our parents (the boy was apparently her brother) but we…we cannot do this anymore. It is wrong."

Lorne and Ronon shared a look, amazed at the turn of events.

"We have taken care of the two guards outside, along with the ones at the armory. Three other children – and two mothers – are ambushing the men guarding the two large rooms. They will lead your people to collect weapons and other supplies they may need."

"What about our friends in the Control room?"

The girl spoke. "It is too risky for us to attempt to help them. Father has many followers there who could easily stop us. You will need to rescue them yourselves."

oooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooo ooooooooo

Vorek gazed in amazement at the view as the Jumper soared across Atlantis's sea. "To control such power, through only a touch or a thought!" he said.

"Well, it also takes considerable finesse, Vorek."

"I will quickly master this craft, Sheppard, I assure you. Now, initiate your communications system so that you may betray your people to the Wraith!"

John made the slightest pause as he moved his hand to do as he was told.

"The baby, Sheppard…" reminded Vorek. "I am sure I can figure out how to send a message to the City, tell them that you are refusing to cooperate…"

"Alright, alright!" John knew he couldn't delay any longer. Perhaps…perhaps he could somehow transmit a false message, a corrupted signal; deceive Vorek in some way. The Jumper hadn't revealed all of its secrets to him yet, even after all these years.

He placed his hand on the controls and focused his thoughts. "Ahhh!" John cried out. The panel suddenly exploded as the communications equipment shorted out, burning Sheppard's hand and sending sparks and smoke throughout the cabin.

"What did you do this time?" yelled Vorek.

"I don't know, really, I don't!" And Sheppard didn't. He hadn't made a conscious effort to blow things up. It had just…happened. His genetic ability had confounded him again.

"Enough!" said Vorek. His frustration had reached the breaking point. "You cannot be trusted after all. I will take this ship myself to the nearest Gate and contact the Wraith directly." He placed his hands on the console. To John's surprise, the Jumper responded well to Vorek's thoughts. He was more talented than Sheppard expected; his gene was strong.

But his was stronger. It _**had**_ to be. Vorek's men had bound his arms to the pilot's seat, with only enough slack to reach the controls.

Controls he could use to crash the Jumper.

Putting his hands to the console, John sent the ship plummeting to earth. Vorek, realizing what he was doing, attempted to counteract Sheppard's orders. The Jumper began to level off. But John would not give up. He sent the ship down again, faster, and at a deadlier angle. Vorek again tried to fight John off. And Sheppard again countered, but this time with his feet as well. They had restrained his arms but not his legs. Swiveling in his chair, John kicked out as hard as he could at Vorek, shoving his boots solidly into his chest. When the man moved to strike him, John somehow managed to deliver a lethal kick to Vorek's head.

It killed him.

Sheppard turned frantically back to the controls. He looked through the windshield. The Jumper was hurtling towards disaster, the ground rushing, rushing inexorably towards him. John grasped the controls with all his strength, and put his mind and body into every thought, desperate to pull the ship back up. But it wasn't going to happen. John prepared himself, mentally and physically, for the crash. He screwed his eyes tight and…opened them in shock as he landed, hard on the floor, in the dimly lit room surrounded by the bane of his existence, the Azeron.

John found himself unusually calm. Of course this was going to happen. Nothing in the last few months had played out normally.

This time, John stood up for himself – a bit. He spoke to the Azeron with true words and true emotion that couldn't be expressed by the silent, measured pace of cold thought.

To his surprise, the Azeron let him.

"What, again? You've yanked me back here _again_? Oh, maybe you're going to be nice this time around and keep me here all safe and warm while everything else goes to hell?!"

The older Azeron he had first met weeks ago answered him. "No, Colonel. The Jumper _is _going to crash, and with you inside it."

John lost it. "What is wrong with you people! Jesus Christ, what do you f….king want!?"

"To tell you, John, that the new people have arrived on Atlantis."

"What, how did…were they waiting to get me out of the way, for me to die before they….!?" John stopped talking then. Everything that had been percolating through his subconscious, for weeks and weeks, suddenly coalesced into a frightening, yet liberating realization.

"We're the new race, aren't we?" said Sheppard.

"Yes, John."

"You…you never meant that we were going to be invaded, wiped out, destroyed."

"No, John."

John took a long, deep breath. Sorting this out was going to be…no, he could do it. It had been his own misconceptions that had prevented him from figuring it out ages ago, anyways. All he had to do now was push that clutter of confusing thoughts out of the way and allow the fresh ones, that had been patiently waiting, to come in.

"So, we're 'new' as in…you're giving us a second chance because…we've passed some crazy test of yours? We've proven that we can 'fight the good fight' against the Wraith Worshippers? Frankly, I think it's because you've grown to like us. Hey, I've been told I can be pretty charming."

The Azeron gave him a smile. "John…," he admonished gently, "you know the real answers to your questions, don't you?"

"Alright, alright; uh…we are a new people…but in a philosophical way." John took another deep breath. He _could_ wrap his mind around this, he really could. "We're new because of what we've been through in the past few months, because of what we've achieved? But for the life of me I can't understand why this has happened, and I sure as hell don't know where you people fit in."

"John," asked another Azeron, "why did you think your people were going to be destroyed, replaced by some evil invader?"

"I think I interpreted your words that way because, uh, I don't know, I'm a soldier. My thought processes generally don't run in the direction of philosophical concepts."

The Azeron looked pleased at John's growing comprehension. "You interpreted our words as you did because that is your mind's focus, Colonel. In your galaxy, you, your thoughts and your actions are largely geared towards literal, physical survival. But such survival takes more than the best weapons, the biggest army, the strongest ships. It takes changes in the mind, in what you call 'heart', changes in attitude and outlook, in drive and determination, in the application of intelligence and intuition."

"Who the hell are you people? What's your role in all of this? Why did you _ever_ become a part of my life?"

The older Azeron spoke again. "We are unique beings. We have existed for hundreds of thousands of years, only rarely venturing from our galaxy."

"Our role… the closest definition would be that we are 'Solvers.' As your language books put it, we identify a problem – something that requires thought and skill for resolution* – and solve it – find an answer through reasoning.* One outcome of solving is that something – a person, a project, an idea – is then allowed to advance, to reach another level."

"Do you remember, John, when we first met, we told you to consider yourself among the few who have ever attracted our interest?"

"Yeah…" said John warily.

"Our purpose is to look out across the Universe at every galaxy, seeking an intellectual challenge that merits our involvement and is deserving of our attention. In Pegasus we found it, a powerful dynamic consisting of three rivals who were strong, determined, and skilled; who were driven by a sense of mission and fiercely vying for dominance and survival. Neither was truly gaining on the other, however. In our view, 'the last man standing' as your expression goes, would win. Your conflict would become an inefficient war of attrition rather than one whose end could be reached by reasoning, intellect, and creativity."

"So, each component of the Pegasus dynamic was assigned a contingent of Azeron who were tasked with solving the problems of their particular side, with the goal that their beings would advance and prevail over the others. It _would not_ be an exercise to determine right or wrong, or to consider who was most worthy or less evil. Their work would be informed by pure logic."

"We analyzed each group of combatants. We quantified their strengths and weaknesses. We developed theories about the possible outcomes and how they could be achieved. The consensus amongst our people was that the resolution of your conflict required each side to evolve – mentally, physically, technologically, and emotionally. To that end, Lanteans, Wraith and Wraith Worshippers would receive our…guidance."

"Guidance!? Interference, you mean. When you grabbed me, sorry, when you invited me over for a quick chat, you said you couldn't, you wouldn't interfere in our conflict with the Wraith and their followers. But, from my standpoint, that's all the hell you've been doing!? You're just a bunch of cold, cruel SOBs using millions of lives for some bizarre form of entertainment. You're getting off on…on solving…what…a math problem?!"

"Your analogy is not far off the mark, John, but we take no pleasure from our actions. We meant what we told you before. We _are_ comparable to midwives. We seek to guide the birth of something new, dispassionately, logically, and efficiently. We do not see ourselves as interfering. My kind have worked 'behind the scenes,' as you call it, to advance many races over the millennia. The Universe made us what we are and requires us to do what we do. It is the same with humans, with Wraith, and with their worshippers. Can you explain, John, why your race is one way, and the Wraith another? No. We all have our role in the Universe. You now understand ours."

"But, the things you've done…?! Forget about what you've put me through. You instigated the Culling on Lytara. Somehow, you've elevated the Wraith and their crazies technologically. And now you've put an innocent little baby in jeopardy!"

"We have also helped you, John, and your fellow humans. How do you think you found the ability to drive the symbiote from your body? Your allies in Pegasus…so many of them survive in the face of great danger and death from the Wraith. How? Their ability to do so has not come solely through their own initiative. Our actions, whether for or against your people, have inspired you to learn, innovate, and see your enemies, even view yourselves, in new ways. You, yourself, have become a better leader within your own City and within the coalition you have helped create."

"It is nearly time for us to send you back, John. Before you go, consider this: Are evolution – physical and mental – , growth, and change the exclusive right of what you call 'the good guys' or are they, should they, be within the reach of any creature, no matter their nature? Please do not believe we are without compassion, John. It is just that we do not, and we cannot, ever consider it."

John thought for a moment. Then, he asked, "Are you done 'guiding' my people?"

The Azeron were silent.

"The Wraith and their followers: have they become 'new races,' too?"

"What do you think, Colonel?" asked the older Azeron. He gave Sheppard one final – was it slightly sad? – smile, and then…

Impact. His own voice screaming. Pain – terrible pain. Hanging upside down. Glimpses of early morning daylight through the smoke, through the blood in his eyes. His leg wet from the nick in his femoral artery. Voices calling out…people coming to save him. And in the background, constantly, was the mantra the Azeron had stuck into his head the first time they met: you alone can determine your fate, nothing is certain, nothing is certain…

oooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo oooooooooo

A few weeks later, Sheppard was still hobbling around on crutches. The artery had been repaired, but his leg was broken in two places. They had removed his ruptured spleen. The gashes in his head had required more stitches than he could count. The cuts Vorek had inflicted upon him were healing, but would leave him with many scars, both physical and emotional.

His friends had managed to save themselves and the rest of Atlantis. Vorek's men had been overwhelmed as the City's residents were set free. His blind faith in the loyalty of his people had, well, come back and bitten him in the ass. John wished Vorek had lived long enough to see his own children betray him.

It had been difficult for John to explain what had happened. The Azeron had answered many questions, but from those answers arose even more questions…as well as a strange mixture of apprehension, anticipation, and enthusiasm about what the future might hold. But then, wasn't that what the Azeron were leading them towards all along…?

**The End.**

_**I hope you enjoyed this story. Thanks for hanging on during the past 5 weeks or so. This chapter contained a lot of philosophical ideas to digest; I hope I conveyed them in an understandable way.**_

_**Please take just a second to review!**_

*Merriam-Webster online dictionary


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